Raising Winchesters
by curlybean
Summary: Just a little tale of what it's like raising Sam and Dean Winchester and being raised by John Winchester. Story may include mention of parental discipline in the form of spanking, but will not be abusive or written in detail.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to the amazing Eric Kripke and to the very fine people of Warner Brothers/The CW. I claim no right to it and am merely playing in their beautiful sandbox. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

Raising Winchesters

* * *

John Winchester couldn't remember ever feeling so frustrated with his boys. And that was saying a lot, because raising Sam and Dean Winchester was the epitome of frustration. John knew that his boys were good boys where it counted, but growing up without the softness that a woman could bring to life had definitely made a difference. They were rough and tumble boys, who wrestled and fought constantly and whose speech was often peppered with coarse language. Especially Dean's. But, of course, John was to blame for that.

He let a lot slide when it came to his boys being boys. He wasn't one to jump on either of them for the swear words that left their mouths or the squabbles they got into. Until they went too far. And for the most part, Dean was able to pull them both back before they reached that point.

John had to give his oldest the credit that was due him. Dean often rode the line, but rarely went over the line. Without good reason, that is. Of course, sometimes his reasoning wasn't good enough to keep him out of trouble with his father, but that was okay. John didn't expect to never have to punish his boys. After all, they were Winchesters. And even though he didn't like having to punish them, he definitely didn't hesitate when it was needed.

He knew he didn't offer much in the way of consistency in his boys' lives, what with uprooting them all the time, but the one thing he was consistent in was the rules and what happened when they broke them. Sam and Dean knew exactly what to expect when they screwed up. John didn't let them down in that aspect.

He knew his parenting style left a lot to be desired, but no one could ever argue that he didn't love his boys. He might leave them alone too often and for too long, but he always did everything he could to make it back to them. He might not make sure they went to the dentist or that they didn't eat too many sugary snacks, but he made sure they brushed their teeth twice a day. They had clean clothes that fit them, even if they weren't designer labels. He made sure they got the sleep and exercise that two growing boys needed. And he raised them to love and look out for each other.

Of course, that sometimes backfired on him, especially when it came to Dean. Ever since the night of November 2, 1983, John had made sure that Dean knew he had to watch out for Sammy. Dean was only five years old the first time he heard those words come out of his father's mouth. John could remember it easily, in fact.

After Mary's death, John took his sons to stay with his business partner, Mike, and his wife, Kate. Mike and Kate were a lifeline for him, at first. In the immediate days following Mary's death, and in the months to come, Kate took care of Sam and Dean. Mike took care of everything that needed to be done in the wake of the fire. He also made sure that John didn't drink himself to death in the weeks and months that followed.

Those first few weeks were hard on everyone. Mike definitely had his work cut out for him, keeping John barely functional. And Kate was suddenly busy taking care of a four year old and a six month old. John barely even noticed his boys in the first few weeks. He rarely came out of the room he was staying in, rarely showering or even eating. His nutrition came solely from the bottles of beer and hard liquor and the occasional meal that Mike pressured him into eating. Whenever Mike tried to get him to see his sons, he adamantly refused, knowing that he would lose his tenuous grip on life the moment he laid eyes on them. He knew that wasn't right. He knew that he wasn't being fair to Sam and Dean, that they needed him more than they ever had. But, he wasn't strong enough to do what he should be doing. Losing Mary had taken too much from him and he wasn't sure he would ever recover.

Now, he carried the guilt of that failure with him every single day. He remembered the devastating effect losing their mom to the fire and their dad to the bottle had on his boys. Sam, of course, was just a baby, so the immediate impact on him was less noticeable. He seemed a little more irritable without his mom, but eventually he bonded with Kate, who had been taking care of his needs ever since. Dean, on the other hand, was a mere shell of the child he had been. At first, John wasn't even aware of the fact that the boy had stopped talking and was barely eating enough. Whenever Mike mentioned it to him, John responded by saying that Dean would talk when he wanted to and that he would eat if he was hungry. It wasn't until almost two months later, when he finally pulled himself out of the depths of whatever bottle he was in, that he realized the severity of what was happening to his son.

In the two months since his mother had died, Dean had lost weight. His clothes hung off of his already too lean frame grotesquely. His eyes were sunken and shadowed, his skin pale and sickly looking. But what worried John the most was the way that Dean was completely and totally disconnected from everything around him, except for Sammy.

Kate and Mike were worried, too. Kate, who was spending every single minute with John's boys, finally delivered an ultimatum to John… either sober up and be the father that Sam and Dean needed or move out of the way and let Kate and Mike adopt them. John's eyes were immediately opened to the immense disservice he was doing his sons. And to the danger they were in from his well-intentioned friends.

That was what led John to setting out on the road with an eight month old baby and a despondent five year old, even though he was still barely holding himself together. John had quickly packed up the few belongings they had and placed them in the trunk of the Impala. He then picked up Sam, said goodbye to Mike and Kate, and led Dean out to the car. After making sure Dean was settled into the back seat, he placed a sleeping, swaddled up Sam on the seat next to him, and brought the seat belt around them both, before settling himself in behind the wheel.

Looking into the back seat through the rear view mirror, his eyes met Dean's. John could tell that his son was wondering where they were going, but since he had no idea himself, he couldn't give him an answer. Instead, he said the only thing he could think of.

"Hang on to your brother, Dean, okay? It's your job from now on to watch out for Sammy.

Without a word from Dean, and without a single glance back at Mike and Kate, John put the Impala in gear and drove away from Lawrence, Kansas.

* * *

Author's note: Well, this little bit was begging to be written, for some reason. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it and on whether you all think I should continue. Thanks for reading.

P.S. Thanks to a guest reviewer who brought up a few inconsistencies, I've edited the ages of Sam and Dean to the correct ages. And I'm not sure if the Impala has seat belts, but Google says that it was common for a 1967 Chevy Impala to at least have lap belts. Just go with it for the sake of the story? And thanks, guest reviewer, for being observant.


	2. Chapter 2

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 2

* * *

The next few months were difficult for all three Winchesters, but mostly for John. His grief for the loss of Mary was consuming him piece by piece, leaving little left for the two little boys that so desperately needed him. Dean still barely talked, saving his precious words for his baby brother, and he still barely ate enough to keep him going. John often found himself growing frustrated with his oldest son, which usually left him feeling guilty for losing his patience with the boy.

And anytime John did lose his patience with Dean, the boy withdrew even further into the shell of the boy he had quickly become. John found himself alternating between periods of despair, defeat, anger, acceptance, and complete apathy. Each stage didn't last very long, but his quickly changing emotions were obviously too difficult for his five year old son to figure out. _Hell, he couldn't even figure them out himself._

Sam was a completely different story. Thankfully, he was young enough to not feel the complete devastation of the loss of his mother. John could tell that the boy missed his mother, but he sometimes found it difficult to console a crying, fussy baby when he himself felt like laying down and crying his own eyes out. Fortunately, even though John knew it was wrong to think that way, Sam had Dean.

Even at five years old, Dean quickly stepped in and took over the job of comforting his baby brother when he was upset. And more and more often, the boy took over taking care of Sam's physical needs, too. Deep down, John knew that he shouldn't allow Dean to take on those responsibilities, but he wasn't strong enough to stop him. _He wasn't strong enough to be the father that Dean needed him to be._

They had been driving aimlessly since they had left Mike and Kate, stopping for food whenever John remembered that he needed to feed Dean and stopping at cheap motels whenever he was too tired to drive any further. He had no family left to speak of and whatever friends he used to have weren't the kind of friends to allow a man to invade their homes, especially when that man had two kids in tow.

John spent a fair amount of his time staring in the rearview mirror at the sight of his two boys curled up on the back seat of the Impala. Dean usually had his arms wrapped around his little brother, holding him tightly against his side, and Sam could usually be found with his fingers either wrapped up in Dean's too long hair or the sleeve of his shirt.

Sam wasn't a fussy baby, for the most part, and Dean rarely complained about anything, but there were times that John was tempted to pull the Impala over and just walk away. He would never do that, of course, but there were times that the hopelessness of his situation nearly overwhelmed him.

Currently, they were stopped for the night and John had just checked them into a motel. Sam, who had been teething and was more fussy than normal, had been crying most of the day and Dean was also crankier than usual. Once he had them as settled as he could in the motel room, he realized that he desperately needed to make a supply run. He had just used the last diaper on Sam and he was running critically low on formula for Sam and snacks for Dean. Looking over at the two boys, who were cuddled up on the small bed, he realized that Sam was sound asleep and Dean wasn't too far behind.

The last thing he wanted to do was to wake the boys up and put them back in the car to drive to the store, so John waited until Dean was sound asleep before making the decision to lock them in the room and drive as fast as he could to get the supplies. He knew that he absolutely should not leave them alone, but he thought he had little choice in the matter.

Taking one last look at his sons, John grabbed his keys and quickly made his way to the door. Making sure the door was locked behind him, he shut it quietly and nearly ran over to the Impala, anxious to go and get back as soon as possible. And he felt like a horrible father the whole time.

* * *

Dean woke up to a quiet, dark room and instantly looked around for his brother. Relief washed over him as he saw Sammy's shape outlined in the soft moonlight that filtered through the slight break in the curtains. Once he was sure that Sam was okay, he searched the darkness for signs of his father. Usually, if he woke up in the middle of the night, he would hear the soft snoring that came from whatever direction his dad was sleeping. Or the man would be awake and watching television as he made his way through a six-pack of beer. Either way, John would always be in the room. He would always be there, if Dean needed him.

Except, this time he wasn't.

Dean felt the first stirrings of panic building when he realized that his father was gone and he couldn't help the immediate tears that welled up in his eyes. His heart suddenly started racing and he couldn't stop the trembling that threatened to overwhelm him.

With complete dread, he climbed out of bed, trying not to wake his brother in the process, and made his way over to the window in the front of the motel room. He couldn't quite reach up to look out the window, so he grabbed a chair that was at the small dinette table close by and pulled it to the window. Once he had climbed up on the chair, he slowly pulled the curtain open and looked out the window, hoping to see the familiar shape of his dad's car parked in front.

But, it wasn't there.

Dean climbed back down from the chair and walked back to the bed with shaky legs threatening to topple him over. His tears were threatening to spill over and he barely contained the scream that wanted to escape him. _He wanted his Daddy. But, even more than that, he wanted his Mommy._

Not knowing what else to do, he climbed back up onto the bed and laid down next to his brother, pulling the blanket up over his head and finally giving in to his tears.

* * *

John knew his trip was taking way too long, but the first store he stopped at didn't have the size of diapers that Sam needed. So, having driven almost ten more minutes to get to the next store, he had now been gone twice as long as he had planned on. His heart was beating frantically in his chest and his mind was going over all the things that could happen to his sons while he was gone.

 _What if Dean woke up and found him gone? What if someone tried to break into the motel room and kidnap his boys? What if someone found out that he had left his babies all alone? What if there was a fire?_ _ **Damn it, what if there was fire?**_

The trip back to the motel was made as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. _The last thing he needed was to be pulled over by the police._ John felt immediate relief when he turned the corner and the motel room came into sight. There weren't any police cars there to arrest him the second he stepped out of the car for leaving his boys alone. There weren't any strange men lurking around the building, trying to break in and steal his children. But, most importantly, there weren't any flames shooting out of the building or firetrucks pulled into the lot. There wasn't any fire.

He pulled the Impala into the space directly in front of the room he had rented, relieved to see that the lights were still off in the room. With any luck at all, both Sam and Dean would still be sound asleep, never having known that he was gone.

But, these days, John Winchester's luck had run out.

The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was the sound of his son sobbing into his pillow. John was surprised that Sam still appeared to be sleeping soundly even though Dean's sobs were echoing in the small room. John stepped over to the bed as fast as he could, guilt and grief washing over him at what he had put his son through. Dean hadn't even noticed that he was back, so when John leaned down and picked the boy up, calling his name gently in the process, Dean panicked.

Suddenly, John found himself with almost forty pounds of a kicking, screaming, biting, hitting five year old. Dean was fighting with everything he had in him and John was trying desperately to break through his son's panic.

"Dean!" he yelled loudly, not even caring that Sam was now awake and crying, too. "Dean, stop it! It's me, buddy. It's Daddy!"

Dean struggled for several more long seconds, but it was finally Sam's cries that broke through to him. Suddenly, he stopped fighting and looked over at Sam before turning his attention back to the man that was holding him. John felt the boy's body relax and then seconds later he was completely collapsed against John's chest.

"Hey, buddy," John soothed, rubbing his hand gently across Dean's back. "Hey, it's okay. I'm right here."

They stayed like that for several minutes- John trying to calm a terrified, sobbing Dean down while Sam cried on the bed next to them. Eventually, John sat down on the bed and pulled Sam over to him, as well. Now, with both arms full of tearful children and feeling like the worst father in the world, John gave in to his own tears. The three Winchesters sat like that for almost ten minutes before both boys eventually gave in to their exhaustion. John gently laid Sam down on the bed and then laid Dean down on the right side of the bed. He took a few minutes to put the supplies away, making sure to put the milk and juice into the small refrigerator in the corner of the room, and then made his way back to the bed. Without even bothering to take off is boots, John laid down in the middle of the bed and pulled both of his boys into his side.

Hours later, he was still there, wide awake as he held onto his sons and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

* * *

The next morning he woke up to find Sam sitting up in the bed, gently poking him in the eye and giggling. John sat up and looked around, not relaxing until he found Dean sitting on the other bed, staring at him.

"Hey, Sammy," he said as he picked the baby up and pulled him to his chest. Sam immediately pushed himself away and looked over at his brother.

"De…" he said happily, reaching out his arms to Dean.

John hadn't been surprised a few days ago when Sam suddenly started saying that word. He, of course, was hoping that the kid's first word would be Dada, like other kids, but it didn't surprise him that it was his brother's name that came first. He easily remembered the look on Dean's face when the kid realized that his baby brother had said his name. John was a bit surprised, though, at how much it hurt, even though he knew that he really didn't deserve that honor.

More and more often, Sam was choosing his brother over his father, and John had to admit that it hurt. Before Mary's death, he and Sam had developed a special bond. John was usually the only one that could get the kid to go to sleep and whenever he woke up in the middle of the night, John was the one he wanted. Mary used to joke that Sam was exactly like his father in every way, but John didn't mind.

And if Sam was just like his father, then Dean was just like his mother. Sometimes, it was painful to look at Dean, because all he saw was Mary. Mary's same blond hair, Mary's same smile, Mary's same gentleness. It was almost too much to take.

John threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, tucking Sam into his hips. "Let's get that diaper changed, Sammy," he said as he walked over to the table where the bags were. Sam immediately started crying and reaching out for Dean.

"De!"

"Just a minute, Sam. Let's get you dressed first."

When Sam didn't stop crying for his brother, Dean stood up and walked over to them.

"I'll do it, Daddy," Dean said so quietly that John almost didn't hear.

"No, I got it, Dean," John answered, pulling a diaper out of the new box. "I want you to go get dressed, okay? And brush your teeth while you're in there."

"Sammy needs me, Daddy," Dean argued, obviously becoming more distressed at Sam's continued crying.

John looked at both of his boys, not really knowing what to do. "He needs his diaper changed, Dean. I don't think you're ready for that."

"Yes, I am! Mommy, uh…" Dean suddenly broke off and looked away from his dad. John's heart broke at the sadness that suddenly filled the room.

"Mommy, what, Dean?" he asked, thinking it might be better if they talked about her every so often.

Dean didn't answer at first, but eventually he did. "I used to help her change Sammy's diapers all the time," he said. "I know how to make sure he's clean and how to put the powder on. But, not too much powder because it makes him sneeze. I can do it, Daddy."

John still wasn't completely convinced, but after checking to see that it wasn't more than just a pee-soaked diaper, he gave in. "Okay, buddy. You can do it, but I'm right here if you need me."

Dean took Sam from John's arms and struggled slightly to carry him over to the bed. John watched from a few steps away as Dean went through the process of changing his little brother. The man had to admit that the kid did a good job. Other than the diaper being a little crooked and the small amount of powder that Dean had spilled, causing Sam to sneeze three times, everything was good.

John was amazed at how good Dean was with his little brother. It warmed his heart, but at the same time, nearly broke it when he realized how seriously Dean took his order to watch out for Sammy.

After watching Dean feed Sam and then watching as Dean picked at his own small breakfast of a banana and a muffin, John took a shower and got dressed. Twenty minutes later, he had Sam and Dean loaded up in the back seat of the Impala and he started driving. He had been driving for almost an hour when he noticed that Dean was staring at him.

"How's it going back there, kiddo?" he asked the somber boy.

"Sammy's playing," Dean replied.

"What about you? How are you doing?"

When Dean didn't answer, John hesitated to push the subject. Knowing that Dean was probably still upset about waking up to find his dad gone, John really wanted to just completely avoid the subject. But, he knew he couldn't. He had to broach the subject with his oldest, because he was sure that wouldn't be the last time he ever had to leave them alone for a short time. He also knew that he had to come up with a better plan than just driving around and living out of motels. The money he had saved up over the last five years was quickly dwindling.

"Dean? I asked you a question, son."

Dean hesitated again, before finally answering. "You left us, Daddy. I woke up and I couldn't find you."

John took several minutes to explain why he left them, knowing the whole time that nothing excused what he did. He knew that it wasn't something that Dean was going to understand, but there was a part of him that couldn't help but feel angry at the look of judgement on Dean's face. _He was doing the best he could with what he had, right? Someday, Dean and Sam would both understand that._

Or, at least he hoped they would.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you all for the reviews on the first chapter. I hope you know how much it means to me, truly. And thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 3

* * *

 _ **Author's note: I just wanted to take a minute to tell you that this first part is a little shift in the current timeline of the story. I was watching Home (Season 1, episode 9) and remembered that John had gone to see Missouri Moseley in the first few days following the fire. I thought I'd play around with that a little bit. I love Missouri.**_

* * *

Nobody knew it, but John had visited a psychic in the days following the fire and Mary's death. He wasn't one to believe in such things, but those first few days raised a desperation and a thirst to know what had happened so fierce that he was willing to do anything to appease it.

Missouri Moseley was a mystery, just like he expected. What he didn't expect, though, was how she made him feel. He hadn't ever met anyone quite like her and although he wouldn't ever admit it, she scared him. She knew things about him that no one else knew. She looked at him in a way that made it feel as if his soul had been flayed open, bared for everyone to see how he had failed as a husband and father. He felt like everything he had ever done in his pathetic life had been laid out in front of her, waiting for her to judge, waiting for her to see him like he saw himself. _A loser. A failure._

Yet he also felt safe with her. He would never be able to explain this dichotomy to anyone, but to have someone see him in such a way was somehow comforting. To see his failures and yet still deem him worthy of kindness and compassion. Especially since she hadn't kicked him out of her house straightaway. _If he was really as awful as he thought he was, wouldn't she have just slammed the door in his face before he took a single step into her house?_

Sitting down in her parlor, he waited patiently as she poured them both some tea. He wanted to refuse the offer, hoping to hold onto his 'I'm a tough marine' persona, but he could tell by the look on her face that she wouldn't take no for an answer. Eventually, she returned, carrying a tray that was loaded with tea and scones.

John immediately stood up and tried to take the tray from her, but Missouri swatted him away with one arm. "John Winchester! I don't need your help, boy. I've been serving tea to my guests since before you had your first zit."

John sat down, trying to hide the blush that spread across his face and wondering how Missouri Moseley could make him feel like such a child. He watched as the woman poured the tea into two cups and offered him the sugar and honey that was on the tray. He reached out hesitantly and took the sugar from her, thinking that if he was going to have to drink tea, it might as well be sweetened.

Missouri settled into her chair and sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving the man sitting in front of her. John fidgeted in his seat, reminding himself of his own son. Of course, he was thinking of Dean _before_ the fire, not the unnaturally somber boy that only responded to Sam's cries and needs. The post-tragedy Dean was nearly a ghost of the vibrant child he had been.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, John," Missouri said sadly. "I can see how much she meant to you."

John didn't really know how to answer that, so he said nothing.

"I know you think I can help you find answers, John, but I'm not sure I can."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Why can't you help me?"

"John, there are some things in this world that should just be left alone. Your wife's passing was awful, but you have two little boys that need you. You should focus on that, John. Focus on your boys."

"I need to know what happened," John answered firmly. "I can't go on without knowing what happened, Missouri."

Missouri's gaze never left his face and he could tell that she was fighting some internal battle. But, he didn't care. He had to know what happened that night in Sam's nursery. He had to know if what he thought he saw was real, or if he was just going crazy.

Missouri put her tea down and stood up. John watched as she walked over to the window, looking out to the street beyond. She stood there for several minutes and John found his frustration growing. He was just about to say something when she turned back to face him.

"There are things out there that you don't know about. Things that _normal_ people don't know."

"What kind of things?"

"Evil things, John. Things that can hurt you and your boys. It's better if you just leave it all alone."

John stood up, too, and started pacing in the small room. "I knew it!" he said angrily. "I knew it was more than just a fire. I didn't want to believe it. I thought maybe the smoke and the flames made me see things, but I saw her, Missouri. She was on the ceiling and she was screaming for me. I couldn't help her and I just sat there and watched as she burst into flames. What the hell did that? What did I see?"

"I don't know for sure, John. I can feel the evil surrounding you, but I need to go to the house before I can know for sure."

John looked up at her in surprise. "You want me to take you to the house?"

"If you want me to help you, yes," she answered. "I need to feel the energy in that house."

The last thing John wanted to do was to go back to that house, but he knew he had no choice. He needed answers.

* * *

John was sitting in the Impala, his eyes planted firmly on his sleeping boys, willing them to stay asleep for a little longer, when Missouri pulled up behind him. He watched as she got out of her car and looked intensely up at the house. Eventually, she stepped towards the car, so John opened the door and climbed out. With one last look at Dean and Sam, he started moving towards the house.

"John, wait," Missouri said, stopping him with a gentle grip on his arm. "I don't think you should go in there."

"What? Why not?"

"There's no need, John. And your emotions might cloud the energy of the place. The waters are going to be murky enough without that happening."

"So, what? I'm supposed to just stay out here while you go in there and face it alone?"

"I can handle myself," Missouri said with a smile. "And you have your boys to look out for."

John's eyes darted back to the Impala, making sure that the boys were still asleep. "I don't think you should go in there alone."

"Well, I'm not going in there, if you do," Missouri answered.

John stared at her for several seconds before turning back to the car. There was a part of him that absolutely did not want to go back inside that house, but there was another part of him that felt like he was betraying his wife. It didn't make any sense, but that's how he felt.

Climbing back into the Impala, he watched as Missouri made her way up the walkway. She had just walked through the door when he heard sniffling coming from the back seat. Turning around, he saw that Dean was wide awake and was looking towards the house with tears streaming down his face. Sam was still asleep, thankfully.

"Hey, Dean," he said gently. "Why don't you come on up here with me?" He wasn't surprised when Dean stayed where he was, knowing that he wasn't about to leave his baby brother in the backseat while he sat up front.

"Are you hungry, sport?" he asked. "I think I still have some jerky left."

Dean usually loved jerky, but he hadn't been eating hardly anything since the fire. John wasn't surprised when he ignored the offer of a snack. They both sat in the car, John doing whatever he could to not look at the house, while Dean never took his eyes off the familiar place that was the only home he had ever known.

John studied Missouri's face as she finally stepped out of the house. She had been in there for almost two hours and John was going crazy, stuck inside the car with a cranky Sam and a withdrawn Dean. Looking back at his boys, he quickly instructed Dean to stay in the car and to watch his brother before opening the door and getting out.

"Well?" he asked before she even made it to the sidewalk. He didn't miss the look she threw into the back seat of the Impala.

Turning back to John, Missouri clasped her hands together as if in prayer. "There's a darkness in that house, John. A real darkness."

"We already discussed this, Missouri. What is it?" he asked in frustration.

"Don't you use that tone of voice with me, boy," she growled back.

John held his hands up in front of him, hoping to somewhat placate the woman. "Listen, I need to know all I can about this thing. I need to know what killed my wife."

"No, what you _need_ to do is take care of those babies," Missouri said as she pointed back to Sam and Dean. "John, trust me when I say that no good can come from you going after this thing. No good at all."

"So, you're telling me that I should just forget that something evil killed my wife? That I should just back down and allow this evil….whatever it is…to just get away with it? What if it hurts someone else? What if someone else's wife gets murdered? How can I live with myself if that happens?"

Missouri looked sadly at the man standing in front of her. She knew that what she was about to say was going to change his life forever. And the lives of the two adorable boys in the car. _But, did she have a choice? Was it her right to keep something so important from the man?_ After an intense internal argument with herself, she did the only thing she could. She told him the truth.

"I think it's a demon," she said simply, watching closely for John's reaction. The man looked like he was in shock, but he quickly pulled himself together.

"A demon…."

"Yes. I don't know what it wanted from your family, John, but I can assure you that it wasn't anything good. The energy I feel in that house is more evil than anything I've ever encountered.

John stared at her closely, ignoring the sudden baby cries that were coming from the Impala.

"How do I kill it?" he asked.

"John…."

"Missouri, how do I kill a demon?"

"I know someone that can help you," she finally answered after a long pause. "I'll make a call and put them on the trail of whatever demon did this to your family, okay? They'll handle it."

"I don't want someone else to handle it," John growled. "That thing killed _my_ wife. Burned down _my_ house. Almost killed _my_ children. It's my responsibility."

By this time, the cries coming from the car were so loud that Missouri couldn't ignore it anymore. "John, look at you. You're already so caught up in this that you don't even realize that Sam is crying hysterically. You don't even realize that Dean is trying to calm the baby down, but it's not working. Your boys need you."

John looked over at the car, his eyes resting on the angry face of his youngest son and the desperate face of his oldest. He knew he needed to take care of his boys, but he couldn't put aside the desperate need to find whatever killed his wife. _He had to._

Missouri could tell that the stubborn man wasn't going to back down. "I'll make some phone calls, okay? I'll put you in touch with someone who can help you in this fight. But for now, I want you to take those boys back to wherever it is you're staying and take care of them. Cuddle with Sam. Make sure Dean eats. Take care of your boys, John. I'll be in touch."

John didn't want to let her go without having a better plan, but he knew he didn't have a choice. Stepping over to the trunk of the car, he pulled out the diaper bag and fished out a bottle for Sam. Seconds later, he was driving back to Mike and Kate's house, watching in the rearview mirror as Dean fed his little brother the best he could.

* * *

Now it was almost five months later and John still hadn't heard from Missouri Moseley or anyone else regarding the demon that had killed his wife. He had been on the road with his boys for almost three months and his desperation was growing with each passing mile.

They drove all day long, stopping for short breaks so Dean could use the bathroom or so they could get some food. By the time they stopped for the night, both boys were usually sound asleep in the back seat of the car. John knew that this was no way for them to live, but he didn't know what else to do. He had no one to turn to. _Well, no one that didn't want to take his boys away from him, that is._ He knew the boys deserved a more stable environment- one that didn't consist of diner food and dirty gas station toilets. He knew that they should be outside more, soaking up the sun rays and enjoying the fresh air, instead of being cooped up inside the Impala for hours and hours, breathing in the recycled air from the vents, listening to the sounds of Metallica and AC/DC.

The motels they stayed in were flea bag motels, infested with fleas and bedbugs and who knew what else. He always made sure to lay down one of their own blankets on the bed before tucking the boys in for the night, but he wasn't sure why. _One measly little blanket wasn't going to save them from the filth and disgust._

The worst part was that his cash flow was running critically low and he knew he needed to do something about it. The Impala sucked up way to much gas and staying in motels every night, even if they were the cheapest ones around, had decimated his funds. Which led him directly into another conundrum- How was he going to make any money when he had two small kids to watch over?

After the fiasco of his last trip to the store when he thought both boys were asleep, John was reluctant to do that again. Especially when it was likely that he would be gone longer that just half an hour. As desperate as he was, he did something that any sane parent would balk at- he paid one of the motel maids to babysit his boys.

He knew Mary would have killed him for doing something so reckless if she knew what he had done, but he was desperate. He needed to make some money so they could keep moving. And the young girl seemed nice enough. He hated the way Dean looked at him when he told him that he needed to leave, but he really didn't have a choice. After a few words to the young girl and a few words to Dean, John closed the door behind him and headed into town.

He was only gone for a few hours and in that time he had managed to make a little bit of money hustling pool. Of course, he almost lost the money when he decided to join a back room poker game, but for once in his life, luck was on his side. Just before he was about to lose all of his money, the door opened and several police officers stormed into the room. Somehow, John was able to grab his money and make his way out a side door before the cops could stop him.

Knowing that he shouldn't push his luck any more for the night, John returned to the motel room, happy to see that both Dean and Sam were still asleep. The young girl was also sleeping on the small sofa. John gently woke her up and paid her what he owed her before ushering her out the door with a quick thank you. Taking a few minutes to check on the boys, John noticed the evidence of dried tears on Dean's face. He gently placed a kiss on the top of both of their heads and then made his way over to the second bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Three days later, his phone rang and he was surprised to see that it was Missouri Moseley. Pulling over to the side of the road, he promptly answered it.

"Missouri?"

"Hello, John," she said. "How are you doing?"

"What took you so long, Missouri? I've been waiting to hear from you for months."

"John Winchester! I asked you a question. How are you? And how are your boys?"

"We're fine," John growled, knowing that she wouldn't stop until he answered her.

"Are you sure? Is Dean eating better? Has he started talking again?"

"How did you know he wasn't talking?" John asked.

"Do you really need to ask that?" Missouri laughed. "I'm a psychic, John. Remember?"

John didn't return the laugh. "Do you have anything for me?" he asked instead.

Missouri let out a big sigh before answering. "I do. A friend of mine has agreed to help you, John. He's been a hunter for a long time and he's willing to train you."

"A hunter?"

"Yes, that's what they call themselves. There aren't a lot of them around, but they're all good at what they do."

"When can I meet him?"

"Where are you right now, John?"

John struggled for a second to remember where they were. "I think we're close to Salt Lake City,' he finally said.

"Well, you've got a bit of a drive ahead of you. Pastor Jim lives in Blue Earth, Minnesota. I'd say a little over a thousand miles."

"Tell him I'll be there by morning," John said as he turned the Impala around and headed in the opposite direction.

"John, that's almost a nineteen hour drive and it's already five o'clock in the afternoon. You'll never make it there by morning."

"Tell him I'll be there by morning. And text me his address."

Missouri started to argue, but John ended the call before she could.

* * *

Author's note: I know these beginning chapters haven't had a lot of Sam and Dean in them, but it's coming. I promise. And I hope you all aren't confused by the shift in the timeline. I tried to make it as clear as I could.

Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 4

* * *

Pastor Jim Murphy was a force to be reckoned with, but John thought he was more than force enough. His determination to learn absolutely everything he could about whatever it was that killed his wife was motivation enough for him, at least. It didn't matter to him that he had two small boys to take care of. He did what he had to do for the boys, but every other waking second was filled with reading books on the supernatural and learning how to fight.

It helped that he was a marine and was already trained in hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, and other combat skills. John was already an expert rifleman and also knew all the ins and outs of basic reconnaissance and warfare tactics. He definitely had a leg up on other beginning hunters.

What he didn't know, though, was how to handle the multitude of monsters that didn't succumb to an ordinary lead bullet. Vampires, werewolves, witches, skinwalkers, black dogs….. It wasn't that long ago that he didn't even know these things existed and now he was learning how to hunt them down and kill them.

Jim Murphy and John Winchester definitely had differing ideas on how to train. John wanted to dive in head first on the actual hunts, but Jim insisted that he spend the appropriate amount of time learning everything he needed to know about the things he would be hunting. That meant that John spent hour after hour after hour looking through book and handwritten notes. Hours and hours and hours that he would have much rather been out there looking for what killed his Mary and any other evil thing he came across.

John Winchester wasn't a patient man. And he definitely didn't like doing things somebody else's way.

* * *

Pastor Jim didn't know what to make of the small family that had suddenly infiltrated his home. John was an abrupt man that didn't take kindly to commands or even suggestions, regardless of the spirit they were given in. His manner of parenting left a lot to be desired, but Jim knew better than to question the man about it. At least in the beginning. He didn't agree with how the man was raising his sons, especially the way he was raising the oldest boy.

Dean Winchester was an enigma. His first impression of the boy was that he was scared of everything, but he learned fairly quickly that wasn't true. Of course, the boy _was_ scared, but Jim was amazed when that fear seemed to disappear whenever Dean was taking care of his little brother. The meek little boy, whose eyes darted around the room furtively, completely vanished the moment Sam needed anything. _Dean was more competent at taking care of a baby than he was!_

Jim watched from afar as Dean, who was barely five years old, fed his little brother and changed his diaper. He watched as the boy climbed into the bath with the baby, making sure that Sam didn't hurt himself in the water. He watched as Dean laid the baby on the bed at night before climbing up next to him and cuddling him into his side. The two boys slept as if they were one, arms and legs entwined together, connecting them even in sleep.

Dean wasn't much of a talker, but he talked to his brother. And Jim wasn't sure, but he thought there were times he heard the boy singing to his brother, hardly loud enough for anyone else to hear. But whatever he was doing, the baby liked it. Whenever Sam cried, he cried for Dean. Not John or anyone else. The baby was never quite settled unless Dean was nearby. And the same could be said for the older boy. Whenever Sam was out of his sight, Dean was nervous and anxious, and it broke Jim's heart.

He watched Dean do the things that a father should be doing, and even though he understood what was driving John Winchester to hunt, he didn't understand how the man could do what he was doing to his sons. _Those boys deserved a father! They deserved more than life on the road and whatever was leftover at the end of the day of their father's attention._

Jim decided within two days of knowing the little Winchester family that he would do whatever he could to help them. Especially Sam and Dean. He knew without a doubt that he would protect them, no matter the cost.

* * *

Dean wasn't sure what to make of the man they were staying with. For the most part, the man left them alone, but he was always watching. Always making sure that they had what they needed. That Dean sat down at the table and ate an actual meal. That they had enough blankets to keep them warm at night. That Dean wasn't always the first one to react to Sammy's tears.

Of course, Dean was distrusting of the man. He watched Jim as much as Jim watched him, making sure that the man wasn't going to do anything to his little brother. The second Sammy started crying, Dean jumped up to help him, panicking whenever Jim made it to his brother first. Dean was the one to always feed Sam, even if that meant his own dinner grew cold in the process.

There were a few times when John would be present at the table and take over feeding the baby while Dean ate, but those times were few and far between. There were a few times when the man would be there to tuck them into bed, but Dean hated those times. He hated how distracted his dad was, tucking them in quickly, anxious to get back downstairs to the books Dean had learned to hate.

Dean missed his dad. His whole life had been turned upside down and one of the only constants in his life was suddenly too busy for him and Sammy. More often than not, John would growl at Dean if he interrupted him during one of his research sessions. Dean learned quickly to stay out of the way of his father, hanging around on the periphery of wherever the man was only when Sam was asleep, knowing that the sounds of the baby crying or chattering was too distracting for the man.

Eventually, Dean started to seek out Jim more and more. He quickly learned that Jim didn't mind his presence. That whatever the man was doing, he would gladly stop the minute Dean poked his head around the corner. And Jim would talk and talk to Dean, not minding that fact that the boy never answered. John would often yell at Dean that he needed to start talking, but Jim just let the boy be. Dean even heard him tell his dad that Dean would talk when he was good and ready. John argued with the man, but eventually gave in.

* * *

It was almost three weeks after they had arrived at Pastor Jim's that Dean finally started talking again. He really didn't mean to, because he really didn't feel like talking yet, but he found himself in a little bit of trouble and he really needed to talk himself out of it.

His dad and Pastor Jim were off doing some "hunting" and Dean suddenly found himself alone with some old woman that kept patting him on the head and clucking her tongue at him like something was sad. _He hated her_.

He hated her so much, in fact, that it wasn't his fault that it happened. _A man could only take so much, right?_ Sam was down for his nap and Dean was wandering around the room, wishing that he could go outside and explore a little. Since it was still pretty cold outside, he had been cooped up inside for far too long and he really felt like he needed to stretch his legs, to run and play like a normal five year old. But old Mrs. Howard wouldn't let him go outside. She insisted that he stay inside where she could keep an eye on him. Dean thought that if she patted his head one more time, he'd probably scream. Even if it woke up Sammy.

He had been up in their room for almost twenty minutes when Mrs. Howard opened the door and stuck her head in.

"Hello, dear….What are you still doing awake? You're supposed to be taking a nap."

Dean looked at her like she had suddenly grown two heads. He stared at her and refused to move from where he was standing, but this only resulted in her coming further into the room.

"Dean? Why aren't you in bed, sweetheart?"

Dean looked away from her, choosing to ignore her in the hopes that she would leave him alone. It didn't work. And Dean could tell that she was getting mad.

"Dean, you're being very, very naughty," she said as she went over to the bed where Sam was sleeping. She bent down to pull the blanket back up onto the baby, but stopped when Dean's angry voice echoed in the small room.

"Leave him alone! Don't touch him!" he screamed as he made his way quickly over to his brother. He didn't hesitate to push the woman out of the way so he could get to his brother. Unfortunately, he pushed her harder than he intended and Mrs. Howard was knocked down to the floor.

"Dean! What are you doing?!"

"Stay away from Sammy!" Dean yelled.

By this time, the woman had gotten back on her feet and was making her way back over to Sam who had woken up and was crying. Before she made it even a step forward, Dean was standing in front of her, pushing her backwards.

"Dean! What has gotten into you, young man?"

Now, Dean was screaming over and over again. "Leave us alone! Leave us alone! Leave us alone!"

Mrs. Howard took a few steps backwards, hoping that Dean would calm down a little once he realized that she wasn't a threat. Unfortunately, by this time, Sam's cries had joined in with Dean's, creating a cacophony of sound that nearly pierced her eardrums.

Before anything else could happen, the bedroom door flew open and John's big frame filled the doorway. He immediately looked around the room, trying to pin down whatever it was that was obviously threatening his children. When he didn't see anything out of the ordinary, he turned to look at the older woman he had left in charge.

"What the hell is going on?" he thundered, causing Sam to cry even louder and Dean to stop yelling.

By this time, Jim had also entered the room, trying to calm the situation down. "Martha? What happened?"

"I don't know, James. I came up here to check on them and Dean just went berserk. I know he didn't mean to push me down. It was just an accident, I'm sure."

"He pushed you down?" John asked angrily, before turning to glare at his son.

Jim could tell that John was growing angrier by the second, so he tried to diffuse the situation. "John, why don't you see what's wrong with Sam? I'll take Martha and Dean downstairs."

"Dean's staying here," John growled. "I think we need to have a chat."

Jim waited for Martha to start heading down the stairs before addressing the angry man in front of him. "John, I think we all need to take a breath first. Figure out what's going on before doing anything about it."

"I can't figure out what's going on if I don't talk to Dean, Jim."

"Okay, but you're just going to talk, right?"

"That depends on what I find out, doesn't it? Dean better have a good excuse for pushing that old woman down. He was raised better than that."

Jim looked over at Dean, whose eyes were now filled with tears. "Just be patient," he said as he looked back to John. "Control your temper, John. And remember he's just a kid."

"Yeah, well he's a kid that knows better than to shove someone."

Jim turned and walked out of the room, praying that the man would find a way to stay calm. Otherwise, Dean Winchester was truly in for it.

* * *

John picked Sam up and held him tightly. He hated the way the little body was trembling, so he was relieved when he started to feel Sam relax.

"Hey, little buddy…. It's okay. What got you all riled up?" He rubbed Sam's back for several minutes and eventually the baby fell back to sleep. After putting him back down on the bed, John finally turned back to Dean, who until then had been standing nervously in the corner of the room.

"Come here, Dean," John said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Dean didn't move until John's repeated "Dean" filled the air. Moving forward slowly, he stopped directly in front of his father. John reached out and grabbed Dean's arms firmly, but gently.

"Eyes up, Dean," he said. Dean immediately looked up at his dad, his chin quivering slightly and his eyes still filled with tears. John's heart ached at the sadness that filled his son's face and he felt the anger drain from his body. "Dean, what happened? Did Mrs. Howard do something?"

Dean stared at his dad before nodding his head slightly.

"Did she hurt you? Or Sammy?" John asked, his anger swelling again with each second that went by.

Dean paused again, but eventually shook his head no.

"Come on, kiddo. This is going to take all day if you don't talk to me." When Dean still didn't answer, John decided to bring out the big guns. "Well, I guess if you're not going to tell me what happened, I'm going to have to assume that you were just misbehaving and pushed Mrs. Howard for the hell of it."

Dean's eyes widened, but he still didn't say anything.

"Okay, son. You leave me no choice here. Remember what happened last year when you pushed Robbie off the swing? I told you that if you ever did that again, I'd have to spank you. Remember?"

The tears filling Dean's eyes spilled over and ran down his cheek. He tried to pull away from his dad, but John's grip tightened. Letting out a big sigh, John picked Dean up and sat him on his lap.

"Come on, son. If you could just tell me what happened, we can figure this all out, okay? I don't want to have to spank you."

John gave Dean a few minutes and just when he thought he was going to have to go through with punishing the boy, Dean spoke.

"I didn't mean to push her, Daddy. I was just trying to get to Sammy."

John's eyes filled with his own tears at the sound of Dean's voice. He didn't realize just how much he had missed the beautiful sound of it. "Why did you need to get to Sammy, Dean?"

"She tried to make me take a nap, Daddy. I told her that I didn't have to take a nap, but she said that all little kids took naps. I'm not a little kid, Daddy," Dean said indignantly.

John still didn't understand how that lead to Dean pushing the poor woman down. "So you told her you didn't take naps? Is that it?"

Dean shook his head no. When he didn't offer anything more, John cleared his throat loudly. "Dean…."

"She said I was naughty. And I, um….. I yelled at her. Sammy woke up and she tried to pick him up."

John frowned at his son. "You yelled at her because she said you were naughty? Really?"

"She tried to pick Sammy up," Dean repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I told her to leave him alone."

"Dean, she was here to take care of you and Sam. She was just trying to help Sam."

"But that's my job," Dean cried. "I'm s'posed to watch out for Sammy, remember?"

"Dean, it's not only _your_ job to watch out for your brother. She was just trying to help."

"I don't need her help," Dean pouted. "I can take care of Sammy all by myself, Daddy."

John spent the next several minutes trying to explain why he should have let Mrs. Howard help with Sam and why it wasn't that unusual for a five year old to take a nap. He wasn't sure he made any real progress with the boy, but at least he knew by the end that Dean really hadn't meant to push the woman down.

"Okay, listen up, son….. We're going to go downstairs and you're going to apologize to Mrs. Howard for yelling at her and for pushing her down. Understand?

Dean didn't look happy with the idea, but eventually he nodded his head. John checked on Sam, who was still sound asleep, before turning back to his oldest. "Dean? Thanks for talking to me, kid. I missed your voice."

Dean smiled before climbing down from John's lap and heading to the door.

Once they were downstairs, Dean stopped in front of Mrs. Howard, who was sitting on the sofa, sipping a cup of tea. She put the cup down on the table and looked down at the small boy in front of her.

"Mrs. Howard? I'm really, really sorry for, um…..for being, um….for yelling at you and pushing you. I really didn't mean to push you down."

"Oh, sweetheart…. It's okay. I know you didn't mean to push me over. And maybe next time, you'll remember to use your inside voice, especially when your brother is sleeping. Now, how about I cut you a slice of that pie I baked earlier. How does that sound?"

Dean's face brightened at the mention of pie, causing the three adults to laugh. And he didn't even mind it when Mrs. Howard patted him on the head as she walked by.

* * *

Author's note: Yay! Dean's starting to talk again. What a relief!

I'm not super happy with this chapter, but it is what it is, right? I hope you all enjoyed it, at least. Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 25

* * *

After almost three months of learning how to kill whatever monster he might come across, John was more than ready to go on his first hunt. He had been gearing up for his first hunt since the very moment Jim Murphy first told him of hunters and the monsters they hunt. The only hitch in his hunting plans was the fact that he had two small boys to take care of. Two small boys that wouldn't take him leaving very well, at all.

Since the day he had taken the boys and drove away from Mike and Kate, John had spent very little time away from Sam and Dean. An hour or two here and there was all he could manage. Since being at Jim's, he had spent most of his time with his nose buried in a book, but the boys knew that he was there. He was really worried how they would respond to the news that he was leaving for several days.

Of course, Sam would miss him, but he was still young enough that it wouldn't really affect him much. At least, he hoped not. Dean, on the other hand, was a whole different story. The few times John had left the boys in some crappy motel room with some young woman to watch over them left Dean quieter than normal for several days afterwards. John knew that the boy's psyche was fragile, that his fear of something happening to his father was larger than life. Dean had already lost one parent and his whole world had been turned upside down. John's leaving for longer than a few hours might prove to be too much for the kid.

But John had to do it. After discovering the truth of the world they lived in, he had no choice but to do what he could to fight the evil that surrounded them. _For Mary. For his boys. For himself._ And if that meant he had to leave his sons occasionally… well, that's what he had to do. Dean would get over it. He had to.

* * *

John and Jim planned on leaving early the next morning and Jim had arranged for Mrs. Howard to stay with the boys. John put off telling Dean that he was leaving for as long as he could, but eventually he just had to man up and get it done. Shoring himself up first with a few beers, he finally called Dean over to him, and once Dean was standing in front of him, John pulled him closer to stand in between his knees.

"Hey, Dean, I need to talk to you about something, okay?" John almost couldn't stand looking at Dean, knowing that he was about to break his heart. "Dean, do you remember how Daddy used to go to work every day with Uncle Mike?"

Dean, who had been unconsciously gnawing on his thumbnail, nodded his head. John gently pulled Dean's hand away from his mouth before he continued.

"Well, I, uh….. I need to go to work for a few days, kiddo. And you're going to stay here with Sammy and Mrs. Howard." John didn't miss how Dean's eyes widened when he heard that he had to stay with Mrs. Howard again. "But, it'll only be for a few days, Dean. I won't be gone long, I promise," he added, hoping he would be able to stay true to his words.

"I don't want you to go, Daddy," Dean said quietly.

"I know, champ. But I have to."

"Sammy and I can go with you, Daddy. I promise I'll be good! And Sammy'll be good, too!"

"I'm sorry, Dean. You have to stay here."

"I don't want to," Dean pouted. "I wanna go with you."

"You can't, so you're going to stay here with Sammy and Mrs. Howard, okay?"

"I don't like Mrs. Howard, Daddy. She always does this." Dean reached up and patted himself on the top of the head, making John laugh. "And she always talks weird to Sammy."

"It's just for a few days, Dean. I'll be back before you know it."

John was surprised to see the tears spilling down his son's face. Before he could say anything else, though, Dean turned and ran out of the room. "Well, that went as well as could be expected," John mumbled.

He was still sitting at the table, staring into the bottle of another beer, when Jim walked into the small kitchen.

"Hey, John. Did you have that talk with Dean? How did it go?"

"How do you think it went?" John growled.

"I imagine it didn't go too well. John, maybe we should postpone this for a little while. I can send someone else for the job."

"No. I'm going and Dean will just have to learn to deal with it, Jim. He needs to learn that this is our new life now."

"John, this is no life to be raising kids in. Your boys deserve better."

"My wife deserved better than what happened to her, Murphy. She was murdered in our baby's nursery. She's dead. That life is over and the sooner Dean realizes that, the better."

Jim knew it wouldn't do any good to argue with the man, so he dropped it. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he sat down at the table across from John. "Mrs. Howard is going to be here at nine in the morning, so we'll leave then."

"I want to leave earlier than that. It's a long drive." John didn't want to admit it, but he wanted to leave before Dean and Sam woke up. He knew he was taking the coward's way out and he hated it, but it didn't stop him from trying.

"I'll call Joanna and see if she can come earlier," Jim answered, after giving John a long look.

"I'll be ready at six."

* * *

The rest of the evening went fairly fast and before John knew it, he was getting the boys ready for bed. For the first time in a long time, he sat on the closed toilet seat while Sam and Dean played in the bathtub. He studied his boys closely while they played, taking the time to really check them out. Sam, who he realized was now just a few weeks shy of being a year old, looked healthy and hearty. His eyes lit up whenever he looked up at Dean and he laughed as Dean splashed water on him. John also noticed for the first time that Sam now had two new teeth. _When did that happen?_

Once he had checked Sam over, he turned his attention to Dean. The first thing he noticed was that the boy was in dire need of a haircut. Mary always liked to keep Dean's hair short, but he had only had one haircut since her death. He made a mental note to take him to a barber as soon as he got back.

The next thing he noticed was that Dean was still a lot thinner than he was six months ago. He knew that the boy had been eating better lately, but it obviously still wasn't enough. Dean usually had a great appetite, but he still didn't seem completely interested in food. Unless it was pie, of course. John smiled to himself as he thought about how much Dean loved pie.

As he watched them play in the bathtub, John noticed how attentive Dean was to his brother. He remembered that Dean used to love playing in the tub, especially with toy boats and battleships, staging battles and rescue missions. But now, the boy just played with Sam, doing whatever he could to make the baby laugh. John noticed a rather large ship on the side of the tub and offered it to Dean.

"Here you go, Dean," he said as he held it out toward the boy. When Dean didn't move to take it, John was surprised. "I thought you liked boats and ships, kiddo…."

Dean eyed the ship almost greedily, but refused to take it. "Sam doesn't like it, Daddy," he said quietly. "He always just throws it out of the bathtub."

"Well, that doesn't mean you can't play with it, right?"

Dean looked at the toy, looked at Sam, and then looked back at John. "It's okay, Daddy. I'll just play with Sammy."

John didn't know it at the time, but he was witnessing the very beginning of Dean's sacrificing his own wants and needs to take care of his brother. If he knew what that sacrifice would eventually lead to someday, he would have put a stop to it right then and there.

Once the boys were clean and in their pajamas, John led them to their room. Tucking them both into bed, he grabbed a book from the table and settled in next to Sam. He could tell by the way Sam could barely keep his eyes open that it wouldn't be too long before he was sound asleep and he hoped that Dean wouldn't be too far behind.

By the time he was halfway through the storybook, Sam was asleep and Dean's eyes were growing heavier. Setting the book down on his leg, he turned to look at his oldest.

"Dean, remember what we talked about today? About me having to go to work for a few days?" When Dean nodded sadly, he continued. "I have to leave bright and early in the morning, bud. But, I'll call you tomorrow night, okay? And you can tell me all about how your day went."

John could tell that Dean was trying to keep from crying and it nearly broke his heart. For a split second, he thought about cancelling the hunt and letting someone else take care of it, but in the end, he just couldn't do it.

"Dean, I need you to be a big boy, okay? I need you to stay here and help Mrs. Howard take care of Sammy. Can you do that?"

Dean nodded and quickly wiped away the few tears that had escaped his eyes.

"I knew I could count on you, kiddo." John reached over and ruffled Dean's hair, surprised when the boy leaned into his hand instead of pulling away. "Just like I can count on you to behave for Mrs. Howard, right?"

Dean frowned, but nodded again and John decided to leave it at that.

"Okay, then. How about if I finish the story, Dean? We were just getting to the good part, if I remember right."

John ruffled Dean's hair again and then grabbed the book, picking up where he left off. By the time he was done, Dean was asleep.

* * *

The hunt took longer than John and Jim expected and by the time they were done, a whole week had passed. John stayed true to his word and called to check on the boys the first night, but didn't call again the rest of the time they were gone. He knew that Mrs. Howard would have called if anything had happened, so he was reasonably sure that everything was okay.

After driving for almost eight hours straight, they finally made it back to Jim's. Both men were physically and mentally exhausted and more than just a little bruised. John was looking forward to a long, hot shower and the chance to stretch out on something softer than the ground they had been sleeping on for the last week. He was also looking forward to a nice, cold beer.

What he wasn't looking forward to was the look on Dean's face.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, John heaved himself out of the truck and grabbed his duffle bag. The first thing he noticed when he opened the front door was the sound of Sam crying loudly. Dropping his bag at the door, he stepped into the house and made a bee-line to where he thought the crying was coming from. He could hear Mrs. Howard….Joanna….trying to calm Sam down, but the boy was crying disconsolately. Loud sobs that tore at John's heart.

"What's wrong?" John asked as he stormed into the kitchen, his eyes immediately seeking out Sam. He felt bad when he realized how badly he had scared Joanna with his sudden arrival, but didn't have time to apologize. "Is he hurt? What happened?"

"He's fine," Joanna said loudly, trying to be heard over Sam's wailing. "He just wants Dean, that's all."

She quickly handed Sam over to John and they were both relieved when his wailing softened to almost normal crying. John looked around the kitchen, trying to figure out where Dean was and why he wasn't helping his brother.

"Where _is_ Dean?" he finally asked.

Joanna gently patted Sam on the back as she looked up at John. "He's upstairs, John. In his room."

John looked at her, obviously wanting her to continue explaining.

"I sent him up there to spend a little time in the corner."

"Why? What did he do?"

"He's had a bit of a rough week," Joanna admitted. "This isn't the first time I've had to resort to putting him in time-out."

"Joanna, what did he do?" John asked in a tight voice.

"It really isn't that big a deal, John. I know he didn't mean to do it. He's just been so worried and anxious since you left and I think it finally just became too much for him."

John was just about to start yelling at the old woman, his need to know what Dean had done completely overruling his usual manners. Before he could say or do anything, though, she continued.

"We were just finishing dinner when it happened. I had just finished feeding Sam and was trying to get Dean to eat more of his dinner. He really hasn't been eating very well since you left." She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "I told him that he had to eat at least half of his chicken and vegetables before he could have any of the apple pie I made and it… well, I guess it made him mad. The next thing I knew, he was throwing his food at me. He has good aim," Joanna laughed and John noticed for the first time that she had what looked like peas and carrots stuck in her hair.

"He threw his food at you?" he asked incredulously.

"I'm afraid so," she answered quietly. "Like I said… it's been a rough week."

"What else happened?" John asked, wanting to know exactly what it was his little trouble-maker had been up to while he was gone.

"Oh, John…. Please don't be mad at him. He's only five years old and he was worried and frustrated. I'm sure he didn't mean any of it, really."

"Joanna, he knows how he's supposed to behave. And he knows what to expect if he chooses not to. Now, please tell me how the rest of the week went."

John listened as Joanna told him about tantrums, arguments, and general naughtiness that had carried on the whole time he had been gone. By the time she was done explaining everything to him, he was angrier than he could ever remember being at his son. Intent on heading upstairs and dealing with his brat straightaway, he handed Sam back to Joanna, not even noticing when the baby started crying again.

"John, wait," Jim said as he lightly grabbed him by the upper arm. John tried to pull his arm out of the man's grasp, but Jim held on. "Wait. You need to calm down before you go up there. You're too angry."

"You're damn right, I'm angry," John growled. "Dean knows better than to act like that."

"John, please. Just give yourself a few minutes to calm down, okay? Maybe go take a shower, wash some of the road dust off of you."

John stopped trying to remove his arm from Jim's grip and slowly nodded his head. He took Sam back into his arms for several long minutes and when the boy had finally calmed down, he handed him back over to Joanna. Seconds later, he walked out of the kitchen to take a shower.

Joanna and Jim both prayed that he would be able to calm himself down before dealing with Dean.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I had a little bit of a block for a while, but I think I finally worked through it.

So, any ideas/thoughts on how John is going to handle this situation with Dean? If so, I'd love to hear them. I'm really trying to show that John isn't yet the man we know from canon. I think Mary's death instantly hardened him, but he isn't quite the emotionally dysfunctional dad we've come to know through thirteen seasons of the show. Like I said….yet.

Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter and the story as a whole.


	6. Chapter 6

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 6

* * *

Joanna Howard had her hands full while Pastor Jim and John were gone. It wasn't that she couldn't handle two little boys. It was more that she just couldn't handle two little Winchesters.

Sam, of course, wasn't really that hard to take care of, although the fact that he was teething didn't make anything easier. He had been unusually fussy and restless, but Joanna had learned early on that giving him something cold and soft to chew on made him feel at least a little better.

Dean, on the other hand, was a whole different story.

From the moment he woke up to find that his father had already left to the moment the man finally returned, Dean was a handful. Joanna knew that it all stemmed from the fact that he was worried that his father wouldn't come back, and no matter how often she reassured him that John would be back soon, it didn't help. Of course, it only made things worse when John and Jim were gone longer than they said they would be. And that John didn't call as much as he should have. She wasn't a violent person by nature, but she sure felt a strong desire to slap John upside the head for putting his boy through that.

In Dean's defense, she could tell that the boy wasn't willfully being naughty and obstinate. He just didn't know how to deal with the frustration and fear he was feeling, so it came out in argumentative, defiant actions.

She tried initially to just ignore his behavior, but after the second day of Dean refusing to eat or take a bath or do just about anything else she asked of him, she had had enough. Thus began the first of many stints of Dean standing in whatever corner was closest or being sent to bed early. She was actually surprised that Dean stayed in the corner or in the bed. She thought for sure that he would fight her on that, as well, but it seemed even _he_ realized when he needed to take some time and calm down.

The one thing that Dean didn't argue about was taking care of Sammy. She hadn't ever known an older sibling to be so caring and attentive to a younger sibling, especially since Dean was only five years old. Anytime Sam needed anything, Dean was there to take care of it. Occasionally, he would allow Joanna to step in and take over, but it was always under his overly watchful eye. Dean desperately needed Sam and Sam desperately needed Dean. Joanna wouldn't ever admit it, but it broke her heart to see the bond between the two boys, knowing that, if continued, it would more than likely become unhealthy for both of them. _No one should need another human being that much_.

Despite the fact that Dean often refused to eat, Joanna finally found a way to get him to take at least a few bites. She discovered early on that Dean loved pie, and eventually she stooped to using that knowledge to bribe the boy into doing what she needed. She wasn't proud of the many times she told Dean that she would bake him a pie if he ate his dinner, took a bath, or went to bed without arguing. Or the times that she threatened him with not being allowed to eat a piece of pie she had already made. But, she did it anyway. She figured that God would forgive her for bribing the poor boy.

By the time John and Jim returned, Joanna was exhausted. That last day had been the worst, by far, and she wanted nothing more than to hand over the reins to John Winchester (after slapping him senseless, of course) and returning to her quiet home where defiant, naughty boys were a thing of the past.

All in all, it was a miserable week for Joanna Howard.

* * *

All in all, it had been a miserable week for Dean Winchester.

He knew he wasn't being good like his dad wanted him to be, but he couldn't help it. When he woke up to find that his father had left with Pastor Jim, a feeling of anxiety enveloped him completely. He didn't know what his dad was doing, other than the fact that it was a "job." All he knew was that John had left and that there was a possibility that he wouldn't come back. Like his mom. Dean knew that his mom had died, that she didn't have a choice and hadn't just left him and Sammy behind, but that only made him realize that the same thing could happen to his dad. _If mommies could die, so could daddies, right?_

Throughout the course of the next week, Dean tried (and obviously failed) to behave. He helped with Sammy whenever he could and he watched Mrs. Howard closely when she was taking care of his little brother. But, when Mrs. Howard told him to eat and he already felt like he was going to throw up, he couldn't do it. When Mrs. Howard told him to take a bath, he didn't want to be away from Sammy long enough to do that. And when Mrs. Howard sent him to bed, he didn't want to go, wanting instead to stare out the window, watching for his dad to return.

He knew better than to behave the way he was. He knew that his dad expected him to mind Mrs. Howard and that he wasn't allowed to talk back and throw tantrums. _He knew_. But he couldn't help it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't.

So, he had grown used to being sent to stand in some dusty corner time and time again. He was used to being sent to bed early night after night. And though he wanted to argue with her over and over again about having to do these things, he also knew that he needed the time-outs to calm himself down. His stomach was perpetually in knots and he was exhausted.

At the moment, he found himself once again standing in the corner, having been sent to his room to think about his behavior and how he could have made better choices. Mrs. Howard was all about making better choices and Dean hated it. He knew he needed to make better choices, but that was definitely something that was easier said than done. At least, in his experience.

As he stood in the corner, he could hear Sammy crying and Mrs. Howard trying to calm him down. He knew that Sammy was crying for him, but for the first time in a long time, Dean didn't have the strength to care. All he could focus on was his own misery and his total belief in the fact that his dad was never coming home again.

When John had called that first night after leaving, Dean was quick to ask him when he was coming home. He wasn't happy when his dad said that it would be a few days before they could make it back, but he tried to be brave. He told John all about the day they had had, telling him that he had taught Sam how to play peek-a-boo and how Sam laughed until he threw up. He told him that Mrs. Howard wasn't patting him on the head as much as she used to and that she promised to make him a pie the next day. By the time John ended the call, Dean was feeling better and he went to bed without complaining.

The next few days were a completely different story, though. When John didn't return or even call, Dean's anxiety and worry increased substantially, which of course led to a completely downward spiral in his behavior. After a few more days without word from John or Jim, Dean was done for. And Mrs. Howard paid the price.

Dean knew he shouldn't have yelled at her or threw his food at her, but he just couldn't take it anymore. He had eaten very little through the week and he had grown tired of Mrs. Howard constantly nagging at him to eat and bribing him with pie. _And he hated peas!_

He regretted it all the second the peas and carrots left his spoon to land in Mrs. Howard's face. He hated the look of shock on her face and he instantly felt remorse for what he had done. Deep down, he knew she didn't deserve something like that, but it was too late to take it back.

Sam, who was sitting in his high chair, started giggling at the sight of Mrs. Howard with peas and carrots dripping down her face and into her hair. If Dean hadn't been so scared, he would have laughed when Sam picked up a pea and threw it towards her, too. Instead, he just sat there, waiting for the woman to start yelling at him or even start spanking him. Not that she had done that before, but Dean figured if there was ever a time he deserved it, it was then.

When Sam realized that no one else was laughing, he turned his attention back to his brother. And when he saw the look on Dean's face, his own lips started trembling and within seconds he was crying. Dean knew that Sam wanted him to pick him up, but he just sat in his chair, waiting for Mrs. Howard to do something.

After several long seconds where the two of them just stared at each other, Mrs. Howard finally looked away and grabbed a napkin. After wiping her face off, she turned back to Dean.

"Dean, I want you to go up to your room and put yourself in the corner," she said matter-of-factly, her voice calm and steady.

Dean didn't say anything at all, but he nodded his head slightly before climbing down out of the chair and heading to his room, completely ignoring the cries of his baby brother.

* * *

By the time John had taken a shower and shaved the weeks' worth of beard off his face, he was feeling much calmer. He knew that ultimately it was his fault that Dean had behaved so poorly in the time he was gone, but he also knew that he couldn't just completely disregard Dean's misbehavior. To do that would be immensely detrimental in the end, because Dean needed to understand that it wasn't okay to act like that, no matter the reason for it.

During their time on the job, Jim had tried to talk to him about the fear, anxiety, and uncertainty that Dean was more than likely feeling. But, John thought he knew his son better than Jim did, disregarding everything the man said about Dean being scared and anxious. Dean was a strong kid. And he needed to come to terms with the fact that John was going to be hunting now. John needed Dean to stay strong, to not give in to his fears. He needed Dean to put his fear and anxiety aside and to do what was required of him.

Deep down, he knew that was probably too much to ask of a five year old, but he felt like he didn't have a choice in the matter. He had to find the thing that killed Mary and if that meant that he had to be a little harder on his boys then so be it. He was a hunter now and things just had to change. He couldn't afford to let his boys grow up soft and emotionally vulnerable. He had to toughen them up, preparing them for what their lives now consisted of- monsters, evil, pain, sacrifice. They had to learn to do what was expected of them. To follow orders and keep their heads down.

John didn't know how this hunting business was going to work when he had two small boys to raise, but he knew he had to figure it out. Nothing was more important than finding and killing the thing that killed his wife. And killing all the other evil things he now knew were out there. Sam and Dean would have to learn that nothing was more important than that.

Running a hand over his face, John opened the bedroom door, prepared to go and deal with his misbehaving son. He had no idea _how_ he was going to deal with him, but he knew he needed to nip this particular behavior in the bud before it blossomed into something he couldn't control.

Before he could make it to the boys' room, Jim stepped into the hallway, blocking his path.

"John, maybe I should talk to him first. Joanna told me a little more about what happened. She's really worried about Dean."

"I can deal with this, Jim."

"I'm not saying that you can't, John. All I'm saying is that Dean's a little fragile right now and maybe a softer touch is in order. You looked pretty angry downstairs."

"I _am_ angry!" John growled. "Dean knows better than to act like that."

"John, he's scared. And he's only five. He doesn't know how to deal with everything that's happened to him. Children who have lost a parent often act out like that. He just needs time."

"I don't have time to coddle him, Jim. He needs to be reminded that his actions have consequences, so if you'll excuse me, I need to be doing some reminding."

Jim eyed John closely, but then stepped aside. Just as John passed, Jim reached out and grabbed his arm. "John, just be patient, okay? I'm not saying the boy shouldn't be punished. Just put yourself in his shoes for a minute and try to understand why he's acting the way he is."

John gave Jim a nod before pulling his arm away and heading towards his son.

* * *

John opened the door and his eyes immediately fell on the small form of his son who was still standing nose to the corner. At the sound of the door opening, Dean swung around, his own eyes widening at the sight of his father standing in the doorway.

"Daddy!" he cried as he ran to John, throwing himself against his father's body.

John reached down and picked Dean up, bringing him up to his chest. Dean wrapped his legs around John's waist and his arms around his neck, burying his face at the same time. John could feel the trembles in the boy's body and could feel the wetness of his tears seeping through his t-shirt.

"Hey, Dean," he said quietly, still holding tightly to the small body as he rubbed his back. After several minutes of Dean grabbing onto him desperately, John pulled the boy away from him and set him back down on the ground. "I'm home," he said simply, finding it hard to look his son in the eye when he said it.

"Where were you, Daddy? You were gone a long time."

John didn't feel like he needed to explain himself to his son, but he tried anyway. "I told you I had a job, Dean."

"But you said you were only going to be gone two days, Daddy. You were gone for forever." Dean wiped the tears from his face as he looked up at his father.

"It took longer than I thought it would, Dean."

"That's not fair, Daddy," Dean pouted. "I waited every day for you and you didn't come back."

John could hear the fear in his son's voice and he felt a quick sliver of guilt rush through him. "Sometimes things don't go as planned, kiddo. I'm sorry."

Dean didn't say anything, so John continued. "Mrs. Howard tells me you got yourself into a little bit of trouble while I was gone."

Dean suddenly found the buttons on his shirt fascinating. When he still didn't say anything, John continued again. "What did I tell you before I left, Dean?"

Instead of answering, Dean shrugged his shoulders, making John's anger surge. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, Dean," he said firmly. "None of this shrugging shoulders business. Now, what did I tell you?"

"That I had to behave while you were gone," Dean nearly whispered.

"Speak up, Dean," John demanded. "And look at me when you're talking to me."

Dean's eyes shot up to his father's and he repeated his words in a louder voice.

"And did you behave while I was gone?"

"I tried, Daddy," he answered.

"That's not what I asked, son. I asked you if you behaved while I was gone. Yes or no."

"No, sir."

John kept his eyes on his son while he made his way over to the bed. Sitting down, he pointed to the place right in front of him. "Come here, Dean."

Dean slowly walked over to his father, stopping once he was a few feet away. John reached out and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him gently to stand in between his knees.

"Mrs. Howard said that you have been angry and restless all week. She said that you wouldn't eat for her and that you argued when she told you to take a bath or go to bed. Is that acceptable behavior, Dean?"

Dean shook his head, but when John cleared his throat in expectation, he answered. "No, sir."

"Did anything else happen while I was gone?" John asked, hoping that Dean would be forthcoming with the events of the evening.

Dean didn't say or do anything for a few seconds, but just when John thought he was going to have to intervene, he started talking. "I, uh…. I didn't want to eat, but she told me I had to," he finally got out.

"And?"

"She made peas, Daddy," Dean said indignantly. "I hate peas!"

"I'm sure Mrs. Howard didn't know you hated peas, Dean, or she wouldn't have made them. Now, what happened?"

Dean suddenly dropped his gaze back down to his buttons. John reached out and placed two fingers under Dean's chin, gently lifting his face back up. "Dean…."

"I threw my peas and carrots at her," Dean admitted miserably. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to."

"What do you mean you didn't mean to, Dean?" John asked sternly. "That doesn't sound like something that happens accidentally. Was it an accident?"

"No, sir."

"So, you did it on purpose?"

"I guess so."

"Either you did or you didn't, Dean. Which is it?

"I did," he admitted sadly.

"Mrs. Howard didn't deserve that," John said simply.

"I know," Dean cried. "And I'm really, really sorry, Daddy."

"It's not me you need to apologize to about that one, Dean. So, when we're done here, I expect you to go downstairs and give Mrs. Howard a proper apology, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

John rubbed his hand over his face again, wondering if his next plan of action was the right one or not. Making up his mind, he grabbed Dean under the arms and sat him on his lap. "Dean, I know that you didn't like that I left. And I know that you were scared when I didn't come back when I said I would. But, that doesn't give you the right to completely forget how you were raised and to treat Mrs. Howard like you did. Or to treat Pastor Jim's house like you did. Mrs. Howard told me that you were slamming doors and kicking at the furniture at times, too. That is all completely unacceptable, son."

John's heart broke at the sight of the tears that were already sliding down his son's face.

"I need you to understand, buddy, that there are going to be times that I'm going to have to leave for a job. And there will be times that I won't make it back when I say I will. But, I promise you, Dean…. I will always do everything I can to make it back to you, okay?"

Dean nodded his head as he tried to wipe the tears off of his face.

"But, while I'm gone, I expect you to do what you're supposed to do. I expect you to behave and to mind whoever is watching you. No more tantrums and defiance. No more being disrespectful. No more throwing food at someone. You know better than that, Dean."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Dean said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I'm sure you are," John answered as he lifted Dean up and placed him back on the floor. "Dean, I know you know what happens when you disobey me, son. So, let's get this over with okay?"

Without another word, John guided Dean over his knees, waiting for him to settle before setting about reminding the boy that actions always have consequences.

* * *

Author's note: I'd love to hear what you all think about how John reacted to Dean's misbehavior. I'm really trying to write him differently than the John we know in canon, because I don't think he just suddenly became a hard-ass the moment Mary died. I think it was more of a slow fade into the no-nonsense, drill sergeant-esque father we've all grown to love (or hate).

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. You are all appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 7

* * *

The next few years were hard on all three Winchesters. It was also hard on the people that cared for the little family. Pastor Jim and Missouri Mosely couldn't do anything but watch as John became more and more obsessed with the hunt. They watched as it slowly took over the man's life. And they watched as John's obsession eventually led to him turning his oldest son into a soldier in the war against evil.

By the age of seven, John had already started training his oldest son, much to the dismay of Jim Murphy. Dean had already shown himself to be particularly adept at handling a gun, bulls-eyeing every single target the first time John took him shooting. From that point on, John spent a portion of every day teaching Dean various hunting skills- from physical sparring to knife throwing to picking locks to escaping various restraints. Dean was a quick learner and seemed to enjoy the training, but Jim was worried that the child's normal development was lacking.

Whenever John needed to leave the boys to go off on a hunt, he would take the boys to Blue Earth and leave them with Jim. Jim would take that time to work on nurturing the boys' social, emotional, and cognitive development. In his opinion, they were severely lacking in these areas.

While Dean had started school when he was five, the constant moving from place to place had definitely impacted his education. Dean was one of the smartest kids Jim had ever known, but he struggled to read and write and his speech development was lacking. The boy barely spoke unless spoken to, unless he was talking to Sammy. When he did speak, his speech was hesitant and his grammar was poor.

Jim spent hours with the boy- reading to him, listening to him read, and watching as he wrote out his ABCs. He practiced simple math with Dean and encouraged him to use his imagination. Dean was tentative and shy at first, but eventually the boy seemed to thrive under Jim's tutelage. Unfortunately, the boy would suffer a setback every time John took them out on the road again.

By the time Dean was in the first grade, John was already getting letters home and calls from the school on an almost weekly basis. Deep down, he knew that their nomadic way of life was wreaking havoc on his sons, but he couldn't bring himself to stop hunting. He and Jim Murphy argued quite extensively on that subject.

For the most part, John didn't get too upset about the letters and calls from Dean's teachers. Usually, they would just be informing him that Dean had gotten into trouble for not paying attention or for not finishing his work. Occasionally, the boy would get in trouble for letting a word slip out of his mouth that he had undoubtedly heard from his father or one of the other hunters that occasionally hung out in whatever motel room they were staying in.

They were never in a place long enough for the teachers to become overly concerned about Dean's actions, though. Until the boy started getting into fights….

It started with minor scuffles on the playground, easily stopped by whatever teacher was on playground duty. Dean often found himself sitting on the time-out bench during recess or standing in a corner in his classroom. Eventually, though, it escalated into more intense altercations that eventually led to someone getting hurt. Dean, of course, had an unfair advantage over the other kids at his school, even at the young age of seven. John was training him almost daily in the arts of self-defense and Dean picked up on the techniques easily. On more than one occasion, John had been called to the office because Dean had knocked another kid to the ground.

John wasn't worried that his son was becoming a bully, because each time it happened, the teachers admitted that his son had been provoked. Not that it really mattered to John one way or the other, but it apparently mattered to the staff of whatever school his son was attending. More often than not, Dean was merely protecting some other student from the schoolyard bully, and while this made John rather proud of his son, he definitely didn't like the amount of attention it was bringing to Dean.

When he had been called to meet with the principal for the third time in as many weeks, John finally realized that they had a problem.

* * *

John didn't give much thought to how the staff at Dean's schools perceived him. As far as he was concerned, they were there for one reason only….to teach his son to read and write. In his mind, they had no right to judge him on what kind of father he was to his boys. He didn't have to defend himself to them or prove to them that he loved his boys.

Of course, they saw things differently. What they saw was a father that often times ignored phone calls and letters that were sent home. They saw a father that didn't make sure his child had a well-balanced lunch every day or wore clothes that fit him properly. They saw a father that didn't make sure his son's homework was done or that his reading log had been filled out. He knew that they looked down on him for these things, but he couldn't bring himself to care when there were so many more important things to think about.

If they knew that he had been out all night trailing and disposing of a werewolf or a vengeful spirit, they would understand why Dean's lunch consisted of a hastily made cheese sandwich and a soda. If they knew that he had spent weeks taking down a nest of vampires, they would understand why Dean's pants were too short and his shirts had holes in them. And if they knew about the two weeks he had spent in bed after nearly being killed by a Rawhead, they would understand why Dean had dark circles underneath his eyes.

He was doing the best he could under the circumstances. Or at least he kept telling himself that.

But, now he found himself walking into another school for a meeting with another principal about another fight his son had gotten into. He could feel the anger settling in his bones as he tried to prepare himself for the judgment and labeling that was about to happen. He knew they thought he was a bad father and while he really didn't care what they thought, he was tired of it all the same.

When he entered the office of the Lindale Elementary school, Sam's small body tucked tightly onto his hip, John immediately saw the small form of his seven-year-old son, sitting on a bench against the wall. Dean was kicking his feet back and forth as he stared down at his shoes. John watched the boy for several long seconds, taking in the fact that Dean's pants had holes in the knees and frayed hems and that his shirt sleeves were about two inches too short for him. He also noticed that Dean's shoes looked like they were awfully tight.

Clearing his throat loudly, he nearly laughed at the way Dean's head shot up immediately, obviously surprised by the sight of his dad standing there with a sleeping Sam cradled against his chest. John didn't feel like laughing, though, when he saw the soon-to-be shiner that was Dean's right eye and traces of what was probably a bloody nose evident, as well. Stepping forward to his son, he immediately cupped the boy's chin in his hand and brought his face up more so he could see it better.

"Are you okay?" he asked in an uncharacteristic softness.

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled quietly.

Before John could say anything else, the secretary returned from the back office and greeted him.

"Hi. Can I help you?"

"Hi," he answered in a gravelly voice. "I'm Dean's father, John Winchester."

"Of course," the woman said. "It seems that Dean has gotten himself into a little bit of trouble, Mr. Winchester."

"I gathered that by the fact that I was asked to come in for a meeting with the principal," he practically snarled, annoyed by the woman's sanctimonious attitude.

The woman took a small step back from the counter, obviously not expecting John's brashness. "Well, Mr. Winchester, let me tell Mr. Coleman that you're here. I'm sure he's anxious to talk to you."

"I'm sure he is," John muttered under his breath as the woman walked away. Turning his attention back to his son, he didn't miss the way Dean was looking at him nervously. He didn't have time to say anything more, though, because seconds later, the woman was back and was ushering the two of them through the office door.

When they entered the small office, the principal stood up from his desk and walked around to shake John's hand. "Mr. Winchester, my name is Dan Coleman. I'm the principal here at Lindale Elementary. Please have a seat."

After shaking the man's hand, John sat down in the nearest chair, settling Sam with a few rubs to the back when the boy started to wake. Dean sat down in the chair next to his dad. John couldn't help but notice how small his son looked in the oversized chair.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm really sorry to have to pull you away from your job today. I'm sure you're a busy man." When John didn't answer the man, he continued, gesturing at Dean in the process. "I'm sure you've already deduced the reason I've called you in. Dean was involved in an altercation with three other students today."

"Three other students?!" John asked as he looked back at his son.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. And as you are probably aware, we do not condone violence in this school. This is a very serious offense, Mr. Winchester."

"What happened?" John asked simply.

"We're not really sure and none of the boys have been very forthcoming with how this all started. All we know is that sometime during the morning recess, Dean and these three other boys started fighting. They were on the side of the school, out of sight, so it took the Duty Teacher a few minutes to notice that the fight was going on. She immediately called for help and they were able to pull the boys apart. But not before several of the boys were injured."

"Injured, how?" John asked.

Mr. Coleman threw a look down at Dean before continuing. "Well, one of the boys has a shiner to match your son's and another one has a fat lip and a bloody nose. The third boy is a little worse for wear. It seems that Dean was able to plant a very well-placed kick to his groin, followed by a punch that left a laceration above his eye. He also lost a front tooth from another punch."

John looked over at Dean who was squirming in his chair. "So, you think Dean did all that by himself?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, we do."

John suddenly wondered just who the "we" was the man kept referencing.

"Mr. Coleman, it looks like Dean came out of this fairly unscathed, but you're obviously trying to tell me that he took on _all three of these boys by himself?"_ Sam started to show signs of waking up again and John immediately started rubbing his back, hoping to keep the kid asleep a little longer.

"Yes. I know it doesn't seem possible, especially when you realize that these three boys are fourth-graders, but that is what we believed happened. Of course, like I said, none of the boys are talking."

John turned his attention to his son. "Dean? Is that what happened?" When Dean didn't answer, John felt his anger rising. "Dean? I asked you a question, son," he said in a loud, no-nonsense voice, obviously expecting an answer. Sam opened his eyes and looked around, obviously trying to figure out where they were and why his daddy was yelling.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied quietly.

John and the principal shared a shocked look at his answer, but John quickly turned his attention back to Dean. Before he could say anything, Sam noticed that his brother was sitting next to him. "Dee!" HE yelled excitedly as he struggled to climb out of John's lap. John held onto him for several seconds, but eventually realized he was fighting a losing battle. Nothing could keep his boys apart from each other.

Sam climbed up into his brother's lap, accidentally elbowing him in the chest as he tried to settle himself. "Ow, Sammy," Dean cried out. "Watch out for your bony elbows!"

"Sowwy, Dee," Sam said as he settled against his brother, his fingers coming up to curl at the hair at the back of Dean's neck. "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean answered with a small smile. For some reason, Sam found it calming and reassuring to play with his brother's hair and Dean wouldn't ever admit it, but he didn't mind it at all. It had the same effect on him.

Once John realized that the boys were settled, he brought Dean's attention back to the reason they were there. "Dean, what were you boys fighting about?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, slumping down into the chair as he continued to stare down at his hands.

"A shrug isn't an answer, Dean, and you know that. Now sit up and tell me what happened."

"Dad…." Dean begged.

"Now, Dean!"

Dean sat up straighter in the chair, pulling Sam closer into his chest, and looked at his father. "I saw them go around to the side of the building and Teddy was with them. They're always picking on him, so I wanted to make sure he was okay. But, he wasn't, Dad. When I found them, they were pushing him around and he was crying. I grabbed his arm and pulled him away and told him to run."

"And?"

Dean looked nervously at his dad. "Then I punched Eric. He's always the one that starts it and he always gets away with it. Beth says it's because his dad's rich."

When Dean didn't continue right away, John cleared his throat loudly. Dean's eyes shot back up to his dad and continued. "I don't really know what happened after that. They all started hitting me and I just started fighting back, I guess. Then Miss Moran and Mr. Simpson were there and it was all over."

John could tell by the way Dean was fidgeting that he was leaving something out. "And that's it? Nothing else happened? You just started punching them?"

Dean hesitated for a second, confirming what John was thinking. Before the boy could respond, John continued. "You know how I feel about lying, Dean. Now, tell me what caused you to go all Chuck Norris on those boys."

John noticed that Dean couldn't help but smile at the mention of his favorite action star. He also noticed that they boy was weighing the decision of how truthful he needed to be. Hoping to swing the boy in the right direction, John quickly addressed him again. "Remember what happened the last time you lied to me, Dean? That didn't turn out to well for you, did it, son?"

Dean's face flushed at the reminder of the spanking John had given him two weeks before when Dean lied to him about how Jim's lamp ended up broken. _He was in no hurry to repeat that particular punishment, that was for sure._ Looking at the desk in front of him, he finally continued.

"Eric was making fun of me," he said miserably. "He was laughing at my clothes and they all started calling me Second Hand Dean. And Eric…"

"Eric, what?" John asked when Dean hesitated.

"Dad, do I have to?" Dean pleaded.

"Yes, Dean. You do."

After another long hesitation in which John was visibly growing annoyed, Dean finally continued. "Eric said that, uh…..that my mom was, um…..that she was too lazy and stupid to buy me clothes that fit." Dean quickly wiped the tear away that was escaping down his cheek, hoping that no one had noticed it. Of course, everyone in the room had noticed, including Sam, who looked to be on the verge of crying himself.

"Dean…." John said quietly.

"I hate them, Dad! They shouldn't have said that about h-her."

"No, they shouldn't have," John agreed. "But, son….they didn't know that Mom was gone. And they were just being stupid."

"Yeah? Well, they won't mess with me anymore."

John didn't know what else to say. He wanted to strangle the three boys himself, especially that Eric kid, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Maybe the fact that a second-grader beat them up would be enough to make them rethink their bullying ways. And maybe it wouldn't. Either way, he couldn't blame Dean for doing what he did.

He did, however, need to remind the boy that it wasn't fair to fight someone who wasn't in the same league as him, unless it was in self-defense. Those boys had no idea who they were messing with when they messed with Dean Winchester.

John finally turned to Mr. Coleman, wondering what the plan was now that the truth was out. Mr. Coleman was watching the two closely, but his face was hard for John to read. Eventually, the man spoke.

"Thank you, Dean, for telling us the truth about what happened. I will be talking to Eric, Michael, and Shane about everything and I can assure you that they will be punished." Turning back to John, the man continued. "With that being said, I have to remind you that this school has a zero tolerance policy on fighting. I'm afraid Dean will have to be punished, too."

Dean slumped even further in his chair at the principal's words, thinking that it all was extremely unfair. Sam continued to play with his brother's hair, his eyes filling up with tears, and his bottom lip trembling. He could tell that Dean was sad and he wanted to make his brother feel better.

"Dee?" Sam said as he repositioned himself in the chair. Dean was once again assaulted by Sam's bony elbows, but before he could really say anything, Sam pulled something out of his pocket and held it up. "Don't cry, Dee. 'Kay? You can have my candy."

Dean realized that Sam was holding up a piece of butterscotch candy, which happened to be his favorite. Unfortunately, it was covered in lint from Sam's pocket. "Thanks, Sammy, but I'm not hungry right now. Maybe later, okay?"

Sam looked seriously at his brother as he put the candy back in his pocket. "Okay, Dee. I'll save it for you."

John and Mr. Coleman had been watching the two boys and once Sam was settled again, they returned to the matter at hand.

"And what kind of punishment are we talking about, Mr. Coleman."

Mr. Coleman looked somewhat nervously at the man before him. "Our school policy, as you should know if you read our handbook, is corporal punishment for all incidents of fighting and violence, Mr. Winchester."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked before John could say anything.

Mr. Coleman turned to address Dean. "It means a paddling, Dean. Eric, Michael, and Shane will be receiving the same."

Dean's eyes widened and he looked frantically at his father. John, who obviously hadn't read the school handbook, seemed just as surprised as his son.

"That's actually allowed here?" he asked. "I thought corporal punishment was banned in schools now."

"There are some states that have banned it, Mr. Winchester, but not Texas. However, it is used only for the severest of situations like fighting."

"Dad, please…." Dean begged. Sam, who immediately picked up on his brother's distress, suddenly started crying.

John suddenly found himself with a headache. He didn't say anything at first, but eventually his senses came back to him. "What other punishment is there, Mr. Coleman?" he finally asked.

"Well, if you decide to waive the paddling, I'm afraid Dean will have to be suspended. That, of course, will go on his permanent record."

"Permanent record? He's in the second grade," John laughed, thinking the man and his school's policies were absurd.

"Well, we wouldn't want Dean to get a reputation, now would we?" the man said. "A paddling is the most effective way to correct the behavior, in my opinion. A suspension only allows the child to laze about at home and get behind in his school work. I don't think that really teaches the child anything, do you?"

While John was no stranger to spanking his son's backside, he was pretty sure that he didn't want the man standing before him to do it. Or anyone else at the school, for that matter. He had been paddled at school once when he was a child and it was something that he never forgot. In his opinion, a spanking should be carried out by someone the child knew and trusted, not some stranger.

"What if I'm the one that paddles him?" John asked. "After all, he's my son."

Dean started to protest again, but John silenced him with a single look.

"I'm afraid that's against our policy, Mr. Winchester. If you want to paddle him again once you're home, that's your business, of course. But, school policy dictates that corporal punishment has to be carried out by a verified, trained staff member."

John was about two seconds away from telling the annoying man in front of him just where he could stick his school policy. Fortunately, one look over to his sons brought him back into focus.

"Dean is _my_ son, Mr. Coleman, and if anyone is going to paddle his backside, it will be me. So, I guess that means he's suspended." John looked over at Dean and noticed his immediate relaxation. He also noticed that the boy had somehow gotten his brother to stop crying.

"Very well, then," Mr. Coleman said. "Dean will be suspended for one week. When he returns, he will be expected to present a letter of apology to Eric, Michael, and Shane for his actions."

Before the man could continue, Dean shot to his feet, nearly knocking his little brother to the ground in the process. "What?! That's not fair! I'm not going to apologize to them!"

"Dean!" John barked.

"I'm not, Dad. That's bullshit!'

Mr. Coleman looked taken aback by Dean's choice of words. John, on the other hand, just looked furious. Stepping over to his son, he turned the boy to the side and landed a hard smack to his backside. Dean yelped in surprise and Sam immediately started crying again.

"We've talked about that mouth of yours, Dean. Do you need a longer reminder of what's expected of you?"

"No, sir," Dean answered. "Sorry."

Mr. Coleman, who still looked shocked by the turn of events, looked back at Dean. "Dean, if you had let me finish, I would have told you that all three of the other boys would be writing letters of apologies to you and to Teddy, as well. All four of you were in the wrong for resorting to violence to address your issues and fighting will not be tolerated here at Lindale Elementary. Coarse language will not be tolerated, either. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. I think we're done here unless you have any questions, Mr. Winchester."

John reached out to shake the man's hands, more than ready to get out of the small office. "Thank you, Mr. Coleman. I can assure you that Dean has learned his lesson." John, of course, didn't think for one minute that Dean's fighting days were over. He knew there would be many more trips to principal's offices in his future. Just not this one. Dean was suspended for a week and they would be moving on within that time anyway. Mr. Coleman didn't need to know that, though.

Dean picked Sam up and settled him on his hip before turning towards the door. He was stopped by John's firm grip on his shoulder. "I think you have something to say to Mr. Coleman, Dean."

Dean almost rolled his eyes, but quickly stopped himself. He knew what was expected of him, so he turned back to his principal. "I'm sorry for fighting, Mr. Coleman. I shouldn't have done that."

"Thank you, Dean. Please try to remember that the next time you find yourself in such a situation."

"Yes, sir."

Without another word, John gently grabbed Dean by the shoulder and led him out of the room.

* * *

Dean was quiet on the trip back to the motel, but John noticed that he kept sneaking looks at him. Once they were back in the motel, John settled Sam at the small table with a snack and his crayons and coloring book. Dean had followed them to the table, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he continued to watch his dad surreptitiously. Eventually, John took pity on the boy.

"Do you want a snack, Dean?" he asked.

"No, thank you," Dean answered quietly.

"Why don't you go see what's on the television?"

Dean didn't move from where he was standing. He just watched as his dad made himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a stale donut from the box on the table. John sat down at the table, pulling some of his research closer to him, but after several minutes, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Dean, why are you just standing there?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"I think I've already had to talk to you once today about shrugging your shoulders instead of giving me a verbal answer. I'm not having that talk with you again. Understand?"

Dean nodded, but quickly followed it with a "yes, sir."

"Okay, then…. Why are you just standing there?"

"Are you going to…. to…you know?

"Am I going to what?" John asked, clearly annoyed by the boy's hedging.

"Are you going to p-paddle me?"

"Why would you think that, Dean?"

"Because you offered to do it in Mr. Coleman's office. I just figured that meant you were going to do it once we got home."

John didn't know how to explain to the boy that he never had any intention of paddling him. While he didn't appreciate the attention Dean's fight brought to them, he couldn't blame the boy for losing control like he did. Those three boys had been extremely unkind to his son and there was a part of him that thought they got what they deserved. And while he was proud of Dean for being able to dole out such an ass-kicking to three boys that were bigger than him, he knew he needed to talk to him about the need to fight only in self-defense. It wouldn't do for Dean to grow use to fighting someone every time his feelings got hurt.

"I'm not going to spank you, son. I understand why you did what you did and I'm sorry those boys said what they said. You and I do need to have a talk about fighting, though, okay? There's a time and a place for it, Dean, and you're going to need to learn to control yourself."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, we'll talk about it after Sammy goes to bed. For now, why don't you grab a glass of milk and a donut and see what's on TV. I bet you can find a Chuck Norris movie.

Dean did as his father said and when John checked on him an hour later, he wasn't surprised to see him watching Delta Force. Dean had a silly grin on his face as he watched the Chuck Norris movie.

"Hey, Dean…. wanna hear a joke?"

When Dean turned his attention away from the television, John continued. "Why does Chuck Norris sleep with a night light?"

"Because he's afraid of the dark?" Dean suggested. "But that's stupid, Dad. Chuck Norris isn't afraid of anything."

"That's not the answer, Dean. Chuck Norris sleeps with a night light because the dark is afraid of _him!_ "

John reveled in the sound of Dean's laughter filling the small room. Later, he would have his talk with Dean about fighting. But for now, he was content to just sit back and watch a movie with his son.

* * *

Author's note: I'm so sorry for the long wait. The holiday season has been keeping me super busy, but I promise I'll get back to a more normal posting schedule afterwards.

Please let me know what you think of the chapter. And thank you so much for reading. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it.


	8. Chapter 8

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 8

* * *

When the boys were eight and four, John took them to South Dakota to meet a man by the name of Bobby Singer. While Jim Murphy was an excellent hunter and had taught John a lot, apparently there were certain things that Bobby knew more about. Dean and Sam had spent quite a bit of time with Pastor Jim, so leaving Blue Earth was hard on the boys. Particularly on Dean.

In the first three years of Dean's mainstream education, he had gone to five different schools. Staying with Jim provided Sam and Dean with more consistency than they had experienced in years. John would leave the boys there for weeks at a time and even when they went on the road with their father, they never stayed away from Blue Earth for very long.

So, when John told Dean that they would be leaving and not returning for a long time, Dean didn't take it well. He had been making excellent progress in school and had been thriving while living with Jim. Dean's teachers were impressed with the change they had seen in the boy, both scholastically and emotionally. He had started out pretty far behind scholastically, but eventually moved to the top of the class. And his behavior towards his fellow classmates and any authority figure had greatly improved. Of course, every time the boy left with his father caused a setback, leaving them all concerned, but once Dean was back in Jim's environment of consistency, he would quickly recover.

Once John made up his mind to go to Bobby's, Jim tried to talk him into leaving the boys with him so that Dean could finish out the school year. But, John refused. He was anxious to get on with his training, so getting to Singer was a top priority. And leaving his boys behind for such an expanse of time wasn't going to happen. John knew that his boys deserved better, that uprooting them so often wasn't healthy, but the thought of leaving them for more than a few weeks was distressing. He knew he was being selfish, but he didn't care.

* * *

The night John told Dean they were leaving was awful. He could tell how disappointed his son was to learn that they were leaving and that disappointment grew to unimaginable levels when he told Dean they wouldn't be coming back. Dean hadn't ever been prone to throwing tantrums, knowing that his father wouldn't put up with it, but he threw the tantrum of all tantrums that night.

From the second his father's words truly sunk in, Dean was inconsolable. John was surprised to see the boy burst into tears and even more surprised when Dean suddenly started picking up whatever was closest to him and lobbing it at him. Sam, who had been watching television in the next room, stood in the doorway, completely confused at the sight of his big brother throwing things at their father. Seconds later, Jim entered the room as well, wondering why it sounded like a tornado was rumbling through his kitchen.

After a few seconds of shocked silence, where everyone was just staring at Dean, John finally snapped out of it and started blocking his face from the things that were thrown at him. By this time, Sam was crying and Pastor Jim had stepped forward and was trying to grab onto Dean. Eventually, Jim was able to grab the boy's arms and pin them down by wrapping his own arms around him. Dean struggled for a little longer until he realized that he wasn't able to break out of Jim's hold, and once he stopped struggling, his sobs echoed in the small room, mingling with his little brother's own cries. Dean's face was red and splotchy as he stared at his father angrily.

"Dean, calm down!" John ordered. "What the hell has gotten into you, boy?"

Jim shot a weary, exasperated look over to John, but the man ignored him, his eyes never leaving his son's.

"I don't wanna leave!" Dean cried. "I wanna stay here!"

"We're leaving," John stated loudly. "South Dakota is too far away for me to leave you two boys here."

"That's not fair! I don't wanna go to stupid South Dakota!"

"I don't care what you want, Dean. We're leaving in the morning and that's the end of it."

"I hate you!" Dean yelled, his words surprising himself almost as much as everyone else.

"Dean…" Pastor Jim loosened his grip slightly on the boy before turning him and pulling him into a hug. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do," Dean cried, burying his face into the man's shirt. "I wanna stay here, Pastor Jim. Please?"

John suddenly stepped towards Dean, but Jim put up a hand, silently telling him to stop. He knew John's usual ways of dealing with disobedience, but this was more that Dean simply being disobedient. The boy was truly hurt by the fact that he was once again being uprooted.

"Dean, listen to me, okay? Your daddy needs to go to South Dakota and he's going to be there for a while. The roads aren't going to be easy to drive on soon, thanks to Father Winter, so that means that he can't be driving back and forth. And I'm going to be going on a little trip of my own, so you have to go with your dad."

Dean relaxed a little more at Jim's words and calm tone, but he was still crying. "But it's not fair," he said quietly. "It's almost Christmas and we were going to put up a tree, remember? You said Sammy and I could pick one out and I could help you cut it down. Sammy's never had a Christmas tree before."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Jim said simply. "Maybe you can get a tree at Bobby's."

Dean looked over at his father, but his face immediately fell at the look on the man's face. He knew that his dad didn't buy into all the sentimental things like birthdays and holidays. To John Winchester, there were far more important things than Christmas trees and birthday cakes.

There was a long silence between them all until Sam's small voice broke it up. "It's okay, Dee. I'll help you find a tree. Please don't be sad."

Dean looked over at his little brother and gave him a small smile. He tried to avoid looking at his father, but his eyes quickly shot over to the man when he heard him clear his throat.

"Are we through with this nonsense, Dean? You're way too old to be acting like this."

Dean nodded his head slightly, but was quickly reminded by his father that a verbal answer was expected. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

John walked over to his son, who was now standing nervously next to Pastor Jim. Jim reached out a hand and grabbed John lightly on the arm. "John….." he tried, but the man ignored him.

Instead, he grabbed Dean by the arm, turned him to the side and placed two hard smacks on his backside. "That's for throwing a tantrum like a little baby," he said. He landed two more hard smacks before turning Dean to face him and releasing his arm. "And that's for throwing Jim's bible at me!"

Dean quickly wiped the tears from his eyes with one hand as he rubbed his backside with the other.

"And believe me, boy…. If you ever act like that again, you and I will be having a much longer conversation. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, get upstairs and start packing up your stuff. We're leaving right after breakfast."

Without a word, Dean turned to leave, grabbing Sam by the arm as he passed him.

* * *

The next few hours were tense for everyone in the house. Dean could hear his dad and Jim talking downstairs and he knew they were talking about him, since he kept hearing his name. And he knew that Pastor Jim was most likely trying to calm his father down.

Dean felt guilty for telling his dad that he hated him. He loved his dad, but he sometimes just got so mad at the man. And Dean wouldn't ever admit it to anyone, but he sometimes wished that Pastor Jim was their father. He wished that his little brother didn't have to grow up living out of motel rooms and eating at greasy diners. Pastor Jim made sure that they had clean clothes that actually fit them and shoes that didn't have holes in them. He read to them every night before bed and helped Dean with his homework. He was the one that taught Dean how to tie his shoes and how to skip a rock across the river. Pastor Jim had time for them. He played with them and taught them and took care of them. He made them feel safe.

Not that Dean didn't feel safe with his father. Dean knew that his father was a hero and that there wasn't a single monster that could hurt them when he was around. He knew that his dad loved them, too. But, John didn't have a lot of time for them. He was always busy hunting something or researching something and all of that work left little time for Sam and Dean. He knew that John also tried to make sure they had clean clothes and food to eat, but the man really didn't pay attention to how fast his boys were growing. He didn't seem to notice that Dean's clothes were too small for him and that his hand-me-downs were too big for Sammy. He didn't seem to notice when it was nine o'clock at night and his sons hadn't eaten yet.

Dean was used to taking care of his little brother whenever they were away from Blue Earth, but John didn't always make it easy for him to do that. Even though he was only eight years old, Dean knew how to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for his brother. But, sometimes John was so preoccupied with whatever he was hunting that he didn't notice that their groceries were all gone. Sometimes, he forgot to give money to Dean so he could do their laundry. And sometimes, he forgot that his sons were only eight and four years old.

Dean did the best he could, but sometimes it wasn't enough. Living in Blue Earth was easy, though. In Blue Earth, Dean could just be a kid for a change. He didn't have to worry about things like food or clean clothes. He didn't have to worry about Sam when he got the sniffles. And he didn't have to worry about monsters.

Living in Blue Earth was all he ever wanted, but now they were leaving.

* * *

By the time it was time for bed, Dean had packed up all of his and Sammy's stuff, not that they had a whole lot. He had the two duffel bags sitting by the door, ready to go as soon as their dad told them to. He was sitting on the bed, resting against the headboard as he read a story to Sam. Sam, who was still picking up on the sadness that permeated through his brother, was being uncharacteristically quiet, but Dean hadn't really noticed. He was trying to focus on what he was reading, but his mind kept returning to the fact that they were leaving in the morning.

By the time he was finished with the book, Sam was sound asleep. Dean quietly and carefully pulled himself out from under his brother, who had fallen asleep with his head in Dean's lap. Dean adjusted the blankets around Sam, making sure that his brother was tucked in tightly. Sam always slept better when he was tucked in. Once that was done, Dean made his way over to the small window seat and sat down. He pulled the curtains open a little and stared up at the almost full moon. Sadness filled him again at the thought of leaving and he didn't even try to stop the tears from falling.

He had been sitting there for several minutes when the door opened. Quickly wiping the tears from his face, Dean turned to see the outline of Pastor Jim standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Dean, mind if I come in?" Jim said quietly.

Dean shook his head and waited for Jim to step into the room. A few seconds later, Jim was sitting on the small window seat next to him.

"I just wanted to say goodnight," he said. "And to make sure that you're alright." When Dean didn't say anything, he continued. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered.

"Dean, listen….. I know you're upset about leaving, son. I'm upset, too. I love having you and Sam here and I'm really going to miss you. But, it's for the best, Dean. Your daddy needs you with him. And it's not like we're never going to see each other again. I made your daddy promise me that he would bring you back to spend spring break with me. That's only a little over three months away from now."

"Really?" Dean asked, his face brightening. "He said yes?"

"Of course, he did!"

Dean and Jim looked at each other, neither wanting to admit that John's saying yes really didn't mean much of anything. A lot could happen in three months and John definitely wouldn't see returning to Blue Earth as a priority, no matter how much it meant to his son. Before they could dwell on it, though, Jim continued.

"You know you can call me anytime, right? Bobby has my number, so if you ever need to talk or something, just give me a call, okay? And I'll make sure to call every so often, too, just to check in."

"Okay…."

"Dean, it's all going to work out, I promise. Your daddy loves you and he's just trying to do what's right."

"I know," Dean answered sadly. Jim pulled him into a hug and Dean burrowed himself deeply into the man's shirt. "Do you really think Bobby will let us get a Christmas tree? What if he doesn't like us? What if he doesn't want Sammy and me hanging around his house? I heard you tell Dad that he was a real hard-ass."

"Language, Dean," Jim chided. "And don't you worry about Bobby. He's a real softie underneath his gruff exterior. He's going to love you boys."

Dean didn't look completely convinced, but he hadn't ever known Pastor Jim to lie to him.

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too, Dean. You and Sammy, both. You boys bring life to this house and it's way too quiet here when you're gone." Jim looked out the window, spying the bright moon immediately. "We'll see each other soon, I promise. Until then, I've got an idea. Every night, before you go to bed, look out the window and find the moon. I'll do the same wherever I am and you'll know that I'm thinking of you."

Dean smiled at that. "Every night," he said quietly. "Just like that movie with that mouse, remember?"

"Of course, I remember. We just watched it last weekend," Jim laughed. "Now, you should probably get some sleep. If I know your daddy, he's going to want to get on the road bright and early."

"Okay." Jim was almost to the door when Dean spoke again. "Pastor Jim? I'm really sorry for throwing your bible at my dad."

Jim smiled easily. "Maybe next time you can just throw a cookbook or something. Leave my bible out of it."

Dean laughed. "I think you're supposed to tell me that I shouldn't be throwing things at people, aren't you?"

Jim laughed. "I guess you're right. So, no more throwing things at people, okay?" Jim hesitated again before giving Dean a wink. "Don't tell your dad I said this, but the look on his face when the bible hit him was hilarious. I'll see you in the morning, Dean. Don't forget to say your prayers."

"Goodnight, Pastor Jim."

Dean pulled the curtain shut and climbed into bed next to his brother. He didn't pray often, but he did that night. He prayed that they would get to come back to Blue Earth for spring break. He prayed that Bobby really was a softie. And he prayed that his dad knew that he really didn't hate him.

* * *

Author's note: I'm truly sorry for the long wait. I'm sure you all know how busy the holidays can get. I really thought that I would get to the boys meeting Bobby in this chapter, but Pastor Jim demanded some more story time, lol. The next chapter will definitely have the meeting between the Winchester's and gruff old Bobby Singer. Should be fun! Oh, and the movie referenced in this chapter is An American Tail, just so you know. There's a song called Somewhere Out There sung by James Ingram and Linda Ronstadt.

Somewhere out there beneath the pale moonlight  
Someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight  
Somewhere out there someone's saying a prayer  
That we'll find one another in that dream somewhere out there

And even though I know how very far apart we are  
It helps to think we might be wishin' on the same bright star  
And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby  
It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky

Somewhere out there, if love can see us through  
Then we'll be together somewhere out there  
Out where dreams come true

And even though I know how very far apart we are  
It helps to think we might be wishin' on the same bright star  
And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby  
It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky

Somewhere out there, if love can see us through  
Then we'll be together somewhere out there  
Out where dreams come true

Songwriters: James Horner / Cynthia Weil / Barry Mann

.

In case you're also following my other story, Watch Out For Sammy, I should have another chapter up sometime tomorrow night. I've hit a bit of a block on that one, but I think I'm working through it.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you all had a great holiday season and a great New Year. Take care.


	9. Chapter 9

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 9

* * *

Bobby Singer wasn't anything like Dean expected. After hearing his dad and Pastor Jim talk about the man, he expected some old, angry man who hated children and would especially despise them for imposing on his life. By the end of the first day there, though, Dean thought that maybe, just maybe he was wrong.

Pulling up into the driveway of the tired-looking home, John stepped out of the Impala and looked around. After studying the outside of the house and surrounding yard, he called for Sam and Dean to get out. The three of them went around to the trunk of the Impala and John unloaded their bags. John grabbed his own bag and a bag of weapons, while Dean grabbed the two duffels that belonged to him and Sam.

Struggling to carry the two heavy duffels, Dean followed his dad and brother up the stairs and onto the small porch. Before they could knock on the door, though, it opened to reveal what could only be Bobby Singer. The gruff old man merely grunted when John introduced them, barely resting his eyes on the two smallest Winchesters before turning back to their father.

"Thanks for agreeing to this, Singer," John said, resting his hands on the shoulders of his sons. "I promise you won't even know we're here."

"This place isn't kid-friendly, Winchester. There's a lot of stuff that can cause problems if your boys get into it," Bobby growled.

"My boys know how to keep to themselves, so it won't be a problem."

Bobby spared another look at Sam and Dean, obviously finding it hard to believe that they wouldn't bring about some sort of trouble. "There's a room upstairs that the boys can share and another one downstairs for you. If you want, you can go get settled in and I'll see about coming up with some grub."

"When can we start training?" John asked.

"We'll talk about that after dinner," Bobby answered. "The boys' room is at the top of the stairs, first door on the right. There's a bathroom right next to it. Your room is down that hall, first door on the left. Give me an hour and I'll have dinner ready."

Dean and Sam watched as the man turned and walked away, leaving them alone with their dad. John grabbed Sam's hand and started walking to the stairs. "Grab your bags, Dean."

Dean grabbed the two duffel bags and hastily followed his dad up the stairs. Once they were at the top of the stairs, John quickly led them into the bedroom they would be sharing. Sam and Dean both looked around the small room, surprised to see that it was actually pretty big. There were two twin-sized beds by the window with a small table in-between. There was also a chest of drawers and a tall bookshelf that was full of old books.

Dean threw the duffels on one of the beds. "How long do we have to stay here, Dad?" he asked.

John, who had already started unpacking Sam's duffel, answered gruffly. "I don't know, Dean. It could be a while."

"I don't like it here," Dean said simply.

Sam, who was picking up on Dean's mood, echoed him. "I don't like it here, too."

"Either, Sammy," Dean corrected. "You don't like it here, either."

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Dean, I know you'd rather be at Jim's, but we're here now and you're going to have to deal with it." Looking at both boys, he continued. "I expect you two to behave yourselves and do what you're told. We're guests in this house and I expect you to be on your best behavior. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered.

"Sammy?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Okay, then. You boys finish unpacking. I'm gonna go downstairs and unpack my stuff. I'll call you down in a little bit." John walked to the door, but turned back to his boys. "No roughhousing, okay?"

Dean nodded his head. Once John had left, Dean turned back to the bed and opened his duffel. He was almost done unpacking when Sam interrupted him. "Dean? I need to go to the bathroom."

Dean closed the dresser drawer before grabbing Sam's hand and leading him out of the bedroom and to the bathroom. "There you go, Sammy," he said as he opened the door.

Sam peered into the small bathroom, but didn't go inside.

"I thought you said you had to go," Dean said.

"I do, but it's dark in there, Dean. I don't like the dark, remember?"

Dean opened the door wider and walked into the room. There was only a small window in the room, so there was very little natural light. Dean looked for the light switch, but couldn't find it anywhere on the walls. Just about giving up, he finally noticed a chain hanging down from the lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite tall enough to reach the chain.

Sam, who by this time really had to go to the bathroom, was doing a weird little dance that made Dean snicker. It also made him speed up his search for something to stand on. He knew that once Sam started squirming, there wasn't much time left before he peed his pants.

"Dean, I really have to go," Sam whined, squirming non-stop.

"I know, Sammy! I'm trying to find a way to turn on the light." Dean finally decided to try standing on the toilet, hoping he could reach the chain that way. Standing as tall as he could and reaching out as far as he could without falling, his fingers skimmed the small chain.

"Deaaaannnn…." Sam whined.

Without a second thought, Dean jumped from the toilet seat, grabbing the chain as he flew through the air. Luckily, he was able to pull on the chain enough to turn on the light before it fell out of his hand. Landing with a loud thud, he laughed as Sam ran into the bathroom, taking his pants down along the way. A minute later, Sam was done and he looked at his big brother in relief.

"Thanks, Dean," he said with a smile.

Before Dean could answer, a loud voice boomed in the small room. "What's going on in here? What was that thud? Did you break something already?"

Dean turned to find Bobby standing in the doorway, looking rather angry. "No, sir," he answered immediately as he pushed Sam behind him. "I, uh…. I just…. I couldn't reach the chain to turn on the light, so I, uh….. I jumped."

Bobby looked from Dean to the chain still swinging slightly in the middle of the ceiling. "Oh," he said. "Why didn't you just ask for help, then?"

"I couldn't," Dean explained. "Sammy had to go to the bathroom real bad. He couldn't wait."

Bobby looked down at Sam and Dean was pretty sure his eyes softened a little bit. "I didn't realize that you wouldn't be able to reach the light. I'll fix it."

"Thanks," Dean said quietly. "Sorry for jumping off the toilet."

"I guess I can't blame you for that," Bobby said with a small smile. "Seems like you're a good problem solver."

Dean couldn't help the rush of happiness he felt at the compliment. "I had to do something. Sammy needed me to."

Bobby didn't seem to know what to say to that, so he just turned around and walked out of the bathroom. Dean didn't know what to make of the man, so he just turned his attention back to his little brother. "You gotta wash your hands, Sammy," he said as he picked the boy up and held him up to the sink. Sam quickly washed his hands and then dried them on his t-shirt when he couldn't find a towel.

"Now what?" Sam asked Dean.

"I guess we go back to our room until Dad calls us. You can pick out which bed you want, okay?"

Dean led Sam back to the room and watched as he tried out both beds, trying to find which one was the softest. Sam chose the one closest to the door, but Dean quickly changed his mind by bouncing up and down on the other one, exclaiming how bouncy it was. Sam loved bouncy beds and Dean always made sure that he was in-between Sam and the door wherever they stayed.

* * *

An hour later, John knocked on the door before opening it to tell the boys that dinner was ready. Sam was laying on his bed, playing with the few toys he always kept with him and Dean was sitting at the foot of the bed, reading through a comic book he had read at least ten times before.

"Hey, boys…. All settled in? Are the beds comfortable?"

Sam jumped up onto his knees and started bouncing. "Mine's the bounciest, Daddy," he said with a big grin.

"Sammy, stop bouncing on the bed. You know better than that," John scolded.

Sam immediately stopped bouncing, his big grin fading into a pout. "Dean said I could bounce a little," he said quietly.

"Who's in charge here, Sam? Me or Dean?"

"You are, Daddy."

"I am. And I say no bouncing, kiddo." John gave Dean a pointed look, too, making sure the boy knew he meant it. "Are you boys hungry? Dinner's ready."

"I am!" Sam yelled as he jumped off the bed. "Dean is, too. I heard his tummy growling really loud!"

John laughed at that before turning serious again. "Bobby made dinner for us and I expect you to eat what he's cooked. Remember, we're his guests."

John turned and led the boys down the stairs and into the kitchen. Dean helped Sam into a chair before seating himself in one, as well. Looking at the platters on the table, both boys were happy to see that Bobby had made fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Unfortunately, he had also made peas.

While John and Bobby were talking, Dean started filling his and Sam's plate with chicken, potatoes, and bread rolls. He hoped that John wouldn't notice the absence of the peas on their plates, since Sam hated them and he didn't really like them, either.

Motioning for Sam to start eating, Dean did the same, hoping to finish before their dad and Bobby stopped talking. They were almost halfway through when the conversation seemed to stop and suddenly both hunters turned their attention onto the boys.

"Looks like you two were hungry," Bobby said as he looked at their quickly dwindling plates of food. "You boys didn't get any vegetables, though."

Dean swallowed his food before answering. "This is really good, sir. Thanks for cooking it for us."

"No need to call me sir, kid. It's just Bobby. Now, how about some vegetables?"

"That's okay, sir….uh, Bobby. Sammy and I are pretty full already."

Dean's head turned to his father at the sound of him clearing his throat. "Dean, have some vegetables. Bobby went through the trouble of making them for us, so eat up."

Dean started to argue, but the look on his dad's face stopped him before he got started. Without a word, he took the bowl of peas and put a scoop on his plate before setting the bowl back on the table.

"Give your brother some, too, Dean," John ordered.

Dean picked the bowl back up and put a much smaller scoop on Sam's plate. Sam immediately started whining.

"I don't like peas," the four-year old cried. "Take 'em off, Dean!"

"Sam, eat your vegetables," John said sternly. "And stop whining."

"I don't wanna! I hate peas!" Sam shoved his plate away from him and crossed his hands over his chest in protest.

"Sammy…" Dean pleaded, trying to keep his little brother from getting into trouble. But, one look at his dad told him that he was too late.

"Sam, what did I say? Stop whining and eat your peas."

By this time, Bobby was looking on, completely appalled by what was happening. "John, it's okay. I didn't know the boy didn't like peas or I would have made another vegetable."

"That's not the point, Singer. My boys know that they're to eat what's put in front of them. And they know to obey orders."

"Dad, please," Dean tried. "Sammy really, really doesn't like peas. Please don't make him eat them."

John glared at his oldest son. "Stay out of this, Dean. Sam? You're not leaving this table until you've eaten everything on your plate."

Dean looked at his little brother, not surprised at all to see big fat tears rolling down his face. The last time he had been made to eat peas had ended with him throwing up all over himself. It was obvious he wasn't eager to repeat that. It was also obvious that the boy wasn't going to give in to their father's demands. Dean knew that Sam could be really stubborn and he had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

Not knowing what else to do, Dean started shoveling his own helping of peas into his mouth, wanting to just get it over with. A few times, he felt like he might throw up, but he was able to keep it all down. Once he was done, he sat at the table, keeping an eye on his little brother. John and Bobby had returned to talking about how they were going to handle the training John wanted, but Dean couldn't help but notice how Bobby kept looking at Sam with a sad look on his face.

After the two men were done eating, John told Dean to clean off the table. Dean stood and started collecting the plates to take to the sink. Looking slyly over to his dad, he started to pick up Sam's plate, but was quickly stopped.

"Leave that there," John commanded. "Sammy's not done yet."

Dean watched as a fresh batch of tears started down Sam's red face, but he didn't know what to do. After clearing off the table, Dean returned to his seat, not wanting to leave his brother when he was in trouble.

"Go find something to do, Dean," John ordered. "You can go on outside, but stay in the yard and stay away from the cars."

"I don't really feel like going outside, so I'll just stay here."

"That wasn't a suggestion, son. Go on."

Dean took one last look at his brother, who was staring miserably at the table in front of him, before finally standing up and walking out of the room. He hated leaving his little brother to face their dad alone, but he knew he didn't have a choice.

* * *

Almost an hour later, Dean opened the front door and stepped back into the house. He could hear the voices of his dad and Bobby coming from the direction of what he thought was the library, so he quickly made his way into the kitchen. He wasn't surprised to see Sam still sitting dejectedly at the table, staring down at the plate that still held the despised peas.

"Sammy, come on…." Dean pleaded. "Just eat the peas and then we can go do something fun."

Sam's tears started anew. "I can't, Dean. I'll throw up and I don't wanna throw up."

"Sammy, Dad's not going to let you up until they're gone."

"I know, but I c-c-can't, Dean."

Dean stopped to listen again for the sound of the two hunter's voices, making sure they were still occupied in the library. Once he was sure they were still there, he looked down at his brother. Sam looked up at him with his big, tear-filled eyes and Dean instantly knew what he had to do. Without a second thought, he grabbed Sam's spoon and started shoveling the cold peas into his own mouth. Without even taking the time to breathe, he put spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, swallowing them without hardly chewing them at all. He was eternally grateful that he had given Sam a smaller helping than his own, but it still seemed like an awful lot of peas.

After his fifth spoonful, he was finally done and he was trying hard not to throw up.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said with a watery smile.

Dean just looked down at his little brother. "Listen, Sam…. I'm gonna go back outside and act like I never came in, okay? You call Dad and tell him you're done. You better not let him find out what I did, Sammy. He'll be really mad."

"Okay, Dean," Sam said, still relieved not to have to eat the peas.

Dean left the kitchen and made his way back to the front door, hoping to get out before he was caught. Just as the door closed behind him, he heard his brother call out for their dad.

* * *

John and Bobby were just getting into the good part of how to kill a Rawhead when they heard Sam calling from the kitchen. Bobby watched as the man threw the book he was reading onto the table before standing up and heading for the kitchen.

In the few hours he had spent with John Winchester and his sons, Bobby had learned several things. First, John Winchester was a hard-ass. Second, Bobby could already tell that the man was an excellent hunter with excellent instincts. He could also tell that the man was stubborn and persistent and would more than likely be difficult to get along with. In just the first few hours, he could tell that John was a strict parent who expected to be obeyed immediately. He couldn't help but think that the man reminded him just slightly of his own father.

He could tell that John loved both of his boys immensely, but the man seemed to be treating them more like they were soldiers under his command than the actual kids that they were. When Jim Murphy called him to tell him that he knew a hunter that needed some training, Bobby had been ready to help. Hell, he'd even been excited. But, when he found out that said hunter had two small sons, he had had second thoughts.

Although, he wasn't raised in this world himself, having only become a hunter after his wife died, he knew that it wasn't the place to raise children. Hunting hardened a man and a hardened father wasn't good for any child.

He could tell in the first few minutes of meeting Sam and Dean that they were already used to having a hardened father. Especially, the oldest boy. He would never admit it, but his heart ached at the thought of what growing up as John Winchester's son meant for Sam and Dean. They were in for a helluva life.

Getting out of his chair, he quickly followed John back into the kitchen, hoping to corral the easily angered man. He entered the doorway to find Sam still sitting at the table, the plate in front of him finally emptied of peas. John was staring down at his youngest strangely and Bobby was trying to figure out what was going through his head.

"You ate all those yourself?" John finally asked his son.

"Yes, Daddy," Sam answered in a small voice.

John looked around the room, obviously looking for where Sam might have stashed the peas. He checked the trash and the sink and even looked in the partially filled glass of milk that was still sitting in front of the kid.

"Where's your brother?" John suddenly asked Sam.

"He's out there," Sam said as he pointed out the window. "Can I go play with him now, Daddy?"

"Just a minute," John announced before he went over to the door and called Dean in. Seconds later, Dean was standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking at his father ruefully. Bobby took in the look on Dean's face, wondering if the boy did indeed have something to hide.

"Dean? The peas are gone off your brother's plate. You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?"

Dean threw Sam a quick look before answering his dad. "I've been outside, Dad. Like you told me to, remember?"

John eyed Dean closely, looking for signs that the boy was lying. "You better not be lying to me, boy."

"I'm not, Dad. I swear!" Dean had his hands behind his back and Bobby didn't miss the fact that the boy's fingers were crossed.

John turned his attention back to Sam and stared at him for several long seconds. "The next time I tell you to do something, you do it, Sammy. Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," Sam answered.

John stared at both of his boys, not completely believing that they were telling the truth, but not having any way to prove it. Bobby cleared his throat and motioned to his wristwatch, obviously eager to get back to work. He was also eager to spring the boys from under their father's critical eye.

"Okay, then." John stepped over to the table and picked Sam up. After a quick hug, he put the boy back down and gave him a light swat on the rear. "Go play with your brother."

Sam ran over to Dean and pulled on his arm, eager to get away from their father and the still half-full bowl of peas on the stove. "Let's go, Dean!"

Dean looked over at his dad and then over to Bobby, who was giving him a knowing smile. He allowed Sam to pull him towards the door and just as he passed Bobby, the man reached out and tousled his hair.

"Stay away from the cars, okay?" Bobby reiterated. "They're too dangerous to be playing in."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. Without another word, Sam and Dean stepped out onto the porch, happy to be out from under their father's watchful eye.

"That was close," Dean sighed, finally feeling like he could breathe again.

Sam had already ran out into the yard and was spinning in circles. "Come on, Dean! This is fun!"

"I ain't doing that!" Dean laughed. When he saw the look on his brother's face, he explained. "Sammy, if I spin in circles like that, I'll be spewing out green peas everywhere!"

"Yuck." Sam's face made Dean laugh even harder. As he watched his brother spinning carelessly in the yard, he thought to himself that maybe staying with Bobby Singer wouldn't be so bad, after all.

* * *

Author's note: Yay! Bobby is finally in the picture. He's one of my favorite characters and I love writing him with the boys. He was definitely more of a father to Sam and Dean than John was, so you really can't help but love him, right? Even if he is old and crotchety. I hope I captured him well in this story.

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story.


	10. Chapter 10

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 10

* * *

Life with Bobby was nearly perfect, in Dean's opinion. They had been there for almost a month already and both Sam and Dean loved almost everything about it. And for the first time in a long time, they were allowed to just be kids. Especially Dean.

John occasionally left to go out on a hunt, usually meeting up with other hunters, but Sam and Dean were always looked after by Bobby. When their dad left, he usually left strict orders for his boys, entrusting Bobby to enforce them. And for the most part, the man did. He made sure the boys went to bed at their assigned bedtimes. He made sure they took their baths and cleaned up after themselves. He made sure they didn't get too rowdy. And he made sure that Dean did whatever training his father required him to do.

But, Bobby also made sure that they boys got the chance to play and do things that normal little boys did. He made sure that Dean knew that he was there to watch Sammy, too. That it wasn't just Dean's responsibility to keep an eye on the youngest Winchester.

Bobby had noticed over the first few weeks how closely Dean paid attention to his little brother. He noticed how Sam's needs came before anything else, in Dean's eyes. What Dean needed or wanted always played second fiddle to Sam's needs and wants. And while Bobby could appreciate how much Dean loved Sam, he still didn't think it fair to the boy. In his opinion, Dean deserved to be able to act like the kid he was. He deserved to be selfish every once in a while, too.

Dean, of course, didn't quite see it all in the same light as Bobby. For so long, it had been driven into his head that he was responsible for his brother and that the most important thing was to watch out for Sammy. And Dean took his responsibility very seriously. To him, nothing was more important than his little brother.

Eventually, Bobby was able to persuade the boy that he wasn't shirking his responsibility to his brother when he did something for himself. It took a lot of convincing, but Dean finally stepped back a little and let Bobby be the surrogate parent for a while. And watching Dean act like the child he was never ceased to put a smile on Bobby's face.

And for the first time in a long time, Bobby found himself decorating his house for Christmas. There hadn't been a Christmas tree in the Singer house since the year his wife died and Bobby wasn't really sure how he felt about it. Eventually, though, after seeing how excited the boys were, his own excitement grew, too.

He also felt immensely sad, though, when he realized that Sam had no memory at all of ever decorating a Christmas tree. He was sure that Dean's memories weren't that tangible, either, but he at least had a few. The Christmases since Mary had died were spent in dirty motel rooms and Bobby was pretty sure that John hadn't made any effort at all to celebrate it. In fact, the man probably went out of his way to ignore it as much as possible.

With that being said, it didn't take long at all for Dean's enthusiasm for decorating the tree to rub off on both Bobby and Sam. Bobby strung the lights on the tree and then sat back and watched as Dean showed his little brother how to place the ornaments. After all the ornaments were on the tree, Dean grabbed the tinsel and showed Sam how to place the strands strategically on each branch. Bobby couldn't keep from laughing when they were done and Sam had more tinsel on him than the tree, thanks to Dean. In fact, there was tinsel all over the small room.

Once the tree was finished, the boys sat back on the couch and stared at it, mesmerized by the tinsel twinkling in the flashing lights. Dean had a strange look on his face and was quiet for several minutes before he finally spoke.

"Uncle Bobby, sir? Where's the angel that goes on top?" he asked.

Bobby smiled at the sound of Dean calling him Uncle Bobby. A few weeks before, Sam had fallen and hurt his arm, prompting Bobby to take him to the local emergency room. As he was checking them in, he identified himself as Sam's uncle and from that point on, the boy had taken to calling him Uncle Bobby. Dean didn't pick up the name as easily, though, and it wasn't until he woke up from a particularly scary nightmare that the name left his lips for the first time. And Bobby had to admit that he really liked it. _It just seemed right._

Dean was using it more and more often, too, but he still had the tendency to add the "sir" onto the end of it.

"Sorry, Dean," he finally answered. "I don't have an angel. We always used a star on our tree, not an angel." He was surprised at the look of panic that filled Dean's face.

"It can't be a star, Uncle Bobby. It has to be an angel!"

"I'm sorry, Dean. All I have is a star."

Dean suddenly stood up and ran from the room, leaving behind a shocked uncle and little brother. Bobby looked down at Sam, who looked upset and about ready to cry, before following Dean. "Stay here, Sam, okay?" he said as he turned to leave. "I'll be right back."

Surprisingly, Sam did as he was told. Bobby followed the sounds of Dean's footsteps, not surprised to find that the boy was heading outside. A few weeks before, Dean had discovered a spot under the porch that was a perfect hiding place and Bobby had found him there a number of times, usually when he was upset about something.

Bobby grabbed Dean's coat before heading out the front door. Seconds later, he was down the stairs and heading off to the side where the small crawl space was. Getting down on his hands and knees, he peered into the tight space, immediately seeing Dean's small, shivering form. He could hear sniffling coming from the boy and his heart ached at the sound.

"Hey, kid….. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Dean answered so quietly that Bobby wasn't sure he had heard him correctly.

Sitting back on his legs, Bobby pushed Dean's coat through the small opening. "Here, put this on," he said. "It's freezing out here."

Dean took the coat from him and quickly put it on, not saying anything. Bobby couldn't stop the surge or impatience and irritation that shot through him. He knew it was mostly because his knees were aching and he was freezing, but he was also just plain annoyed at John Winchester, who was totally to blame for Dean's usual reluctance to share his feelings. Dean had learned early on to internalize his feelings.

"Listen, kid…. It's cold out here and I really need some coffee. What do you say we head back inside the house and talk about this?"

Dean didn't budge and Bobby felt a sudden desire to reach in and yank the boy out. But, he didn't. Instead, he used his secret weapon….. the one thing that always worked to get Dean to do something. "Dean, if we don't get back inside soon, Sam's going to come out to see what's going on. And it's too cold out here for that, isn't it?"

Dean, who was shivering violently, gave Bobby a look that told him he wasn't playing fair, but he moved to climb out from under the porch anyway. Bobby scooted back and then slowly pulled himself to his feet. Once he was standing up, he reached forward and pulled Dean into his side. "Let's go, boy," he said, pulling Dean gently towards the steps. Dean didn't struggle.

Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting around the table. Sam and Dean were sipping on cups of hot chocolate and Bobby was drinking his coffee, which happened to be spiked with a shot of whiskey. Dean still wasn't saying much and Bobby could tell that he was still upset. But, he didn't push the boy to talk. In the short time he had known Dean, he had learned that the boy would eventually talk. And he was willing to wait as long as he had to.

* * *

To Bobby's surprise, Dean's willingness to talk happened sooner than expected. Sam and Dean had spent the evening in front of the Christmas tree, playing games and watching television. Bobby noticed Dean frequently looking up at the top of the tree with a strange look on his face, but didn't pry into what the boy was thinking. Eventually, it was time for baths and bed, so Dean grabbed Sam by the hand and led him upstairs.

After both boys had taken a bath, Bobby stepped into their room to say goodnight. He was surprised to see that Sam was already asleep, curled into his brother's side comfortably. Bobby stepped over to Dean's side of the bed and sat down on the edge. Dean scooted over a little- trying not to wake Sam up in the process- to make more room for Bobby.

"He fell asleep pretty fast," Bobby commented with a nod towards Sam.

"He's just a kid," Dean answered. "He gets tired fast."

Bobby grinned at Dean's words. "You boys did a real nice job on the tree, kid. It looks great."

Dean smiled sheepishly. "Sorry for getting the tinsel everywhere."

"It's okay. You and Sam cleaned it all up, right?" Dean, who was playing with a loose thread on the comforter, didn't answer. "Well, why don't you try to get some sleep, kid? Sam will be up and running around again soon enough."

"Yes, sir."

Bobby nudged Dean's leg and stood up. "Okay, then…. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby had almost made it to the door when Dean's voiced stopped him. "We used to have an angel on our tree. I remember. Dad would pick me up and let me put it on top of the tree and M-mom would say that the angel was watching over us. She always said that.

Bobby didn't know how to answer and his heart ached at the sadness in Dean's voice.

"Why would she say that, Uncle Bobby? Why would she lie like that?"

Bobby's heart broke even more at Dean's words. "What makes you think she was lying?" he finally asked.

"Because it's not true! Angels weren't watching over us! Because if they were, she wouldn't be….she wouldn't have….."

Bobby sat back down on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on Dean's knee. Taking a deep breath, he tried to gather his strength for the conversation they were about to have. At the same time, he was inwardly cursing John for not being the one to talk to Dean about this. Bobby cleared his throat, took another deep breath, and tried to explain to Dean something that he himself didn't even understand.

"Dean…. sometimes bad things happen to good people. I didn't know your mom, but from what I've heard about her, she was good people. I know she loved you and Sam and your dad. And I know she wouldn't lie to you. She really believed that angels were watching over you." Bobby paused, trying to figure out how to explain something like that to a kid. "But sometimes things happen that we're not meant to understand."

"It's not fair," Dean said simply.

"No, it's not," Bobby agreed. "But, Dean… there are a lot of things that aren't fair in this life. A lot of things that we'll never understand. You just have to realize that and get on with it, kid. It's the only thing we can do, sometimes."

Bobby and Dean talked for a little while longer, until Dean's eyes started to grow heavy. After telling the boy goodnight again and making sure the blankets were tucked around the two of them, Bobby made his way downstairs, determined to make things better for Dean. After making a few phone calls, he finally gave in to his need for a drink. Sitting down behind his cluttered desk, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a good-sized drink. It had been a long, emotional day and he was ready to numb his emotions a bit.

Morning came much too soon for Bobby, but he made his way downstairs to start breakfast. He was surprised to see Sam and Dean in the kitchen, both sitting at the table, eating their breakfast. "What's this?" he asked as he gestured at the food on the table.

"Sam was hungry," Dean answered, as if that answered everything.

"Dean, I don't know how I feel about you cooking."

"Uncle Bobby, I've been making breakfast for Sammy for a long time. And Dad lets me."

That didn't surprise Bobby at all. John also thought it was okay to sometimes leave Sam and Dean alone, but Bobby thought they were much too young for that. Looking over the food, he noticed that Dean had made bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast. He had even cut up some fruit for his fruit-loving little brother.

"Dean makes the best eggs, Uncle Bobby," Sam said with a mouthful of eggs. "His eggs are better than Daddy's."

"Is that so? Well, maybe I should try some of these famous eggs." Bobby grabbed a plate and started filling it up. He was surprised to find that they were really good. "These are delicious, Dean."

"See? I told you! And Dean makes the best macaroni and cheese, too!"

Bobby smiled at the way Sam looked up at his brother so adoringly. And at the way Dean blushed from the attention and the compliment. "Well, maybe Dean needs to take over the cooking from now on."

Dean groaned. "Thanks, Sammy. Now I have to do all the cooking."

Bobby laughed. "I wouldn't make you do _all_ the cooking, Dean. But maybe you can just be in charge of breakfast."

"Yes!" Sam yelled, jumping up excitedly at the same time. Unfortunately, he knocked over his glass of orange juice, sending the juice pouring over the table and directly into Bobby's lap.

"Damn it!" Bobby yelled as he stood up and grabbed a dishtowel, missing the look of fear that crossed both boys' faces. He also missed the immediate response of Dean stepping over to protect his brother.

"It was an accident," Dean said quickly. "He didn't mean to do it, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby finally realized the sound of panic in Dean's words and turned back to the boys.

"Please don't punish Sam, Uncle Bobby. I'll clean it up, I promise."

"Punish Sam?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Who said anything about punishing Sam?"

"He made a mess," Dean answered. "But, I swear it was an accident. And I'm sorry I wasn't watching him better. You can punish me, if you want to."

Bobby threw the towel down on the counter, frustrated beyond belief. "I know it was an accident. And no one's getting punished, okay?"

Dean didn't look completely convinced and Bobby realized just how new their relationship really was. He had already grown to love Sam and Dean, but they obviously still had a lot to learn about each other. He looked closely at the boys. Dean was still standing protectively in front of his brother and Sam was leaning into Dean, his small hands grasping his brother's shirt tightly.

Stepping over to the table, Bobby gave them a small smile. "How about we get this mess cleaned up, hmmm? And then the two of you can finish your breakfast and go play outside for a while." Grabbing the roll of paper towels and a damp dishtowel, Bobby handed the paper towels to Sam and Dean, keeping the damp towel for himself. Sam and Dean both scrambled to clean up the spilled juice and Bobby didn't miss the veiled looks Dean kept throwing him. Once they were done, he threw the dish towel in the sink and sat back down at the table. "Now, where were we?" he asked, pleased that he was able to elicit a smile from Sam.

Sam and Dean watched as he started to eat again, acting as if nothing had even happened. A few seconds later, Dean hesitantly picked up his fork and took a bite of eggs. Sam, who was fixedly watching his brother, then picked up his own fork and started eating, too.

Once they were done, Dean quickly cleaned off the table. He was just about to get started on the dishes when the doorbell rang, causing all of them to look towards the door. Bobby cleared his throat. "Dean, why don't you boys go upstairs and get dressed. And make sure you brush your teeth."

Without a word, Dean grabbed Sam's hand and led him to the stairs.

* * *

Almost twenty minutes later, Sam and Dean came backstairs. They could hear voices coming from Bobby's study and Dean wasn't sure if they should head that way. He had just made up his mind to take Sam into the living room when he heard Bobby's voice calling out to them.

"Boys? Come here."

Dean led his brother toward the study, keeping him slightly behind him. Once they entered the study, they both stopped, surprised to see Jim Murphy standing next to Bobby.

"Pastor Jim!" Dean yelled as he ran forward, throwing himself into the man's arms. Sam wasn't too far behind him.

"Dean! Sam! It's good to see you boys!"

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked. "Is Dad okay?"

"He's fine, Dean. He's fine. I just came for a visit, that's all."

"I missed you, Pastor Jim," Sam said, still clutching the man tightly.

"I missed you, too, Sam. My house is too quiet without you boys there." Jim pulled away slightly, turning his attention to Dean. "I brought you something that I think you might like."

Dean watched as Jim opened a bag he had been holding and dug around inside. Bobby was watching the boy closely, hoping that he hadn't made a mistake when he called Jim the night before. The instant Dean figured out what Jim had brought out of the bag, his eyes lit up, and Bobby knew he hadn't made a mistake.

"Where did you get that?" Dean asked as he stared in awe at the Angel tree topper Jim was holding.

"It's something I had at home, Dean. And when Bobby told me that he didn't have one for your tree, I thought I'd bring it to you."

Dean stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the angel. "It looks just like the one we used to have," he said at last, his tone reverent.

By this time, Sam was trying to get a better look at the thing that made Dean act so weird. "What is it?" he finally asked.

"It's for the tree, Sammy," Dean explained. "It goes at the very top."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because…." Dean answered.

"That's not a good answer, Dean. Daddy always says that it's not." Sam crossed his arms and glared at his brother.

Bobby and Jim laughed at the look on the boy's face. Dean just looked annoyed.

"Why do we have to put an angel on the top, Dean? Why can't it be a horse? Or a superhero?"

"You can't put a horse on top of a Christmas tree, dummy," Dean scoffed.

"Says who?" Sam asked. "And Daddy said you can't call me names, Dean."

Jim took one look at the irritation on Dean's face and decided to step in before things got out of hand. "Sam, remember when you heard the story of the birth of Jesus in Sunday school?" he asked.

"Yeah," he answered excitedly. "Jesus was born in a stable because there was no room at the motel. Am I right, Pastor Jim?"

"Yes, you are, Sam. You were obviously paying attention in class."

"I always pay attention, Pastor Jim. Daddy says I do that really good. But not Dean. Daddy says he gets dis…um, dis…."

"Distracted," Jim supplied.

"Yeah, distracted! Dean gets in trouble a lot for being that!"

"Well, do you remember the part about the bright star leading the three wise men to Bethlehem? And about the angels that appeared over Bethlehem to announce His birth? Well, some people put a star on top of their tree and others use an angel. It symbolizes the significance of the birth of Jesus." Jim couldn't help but notice that Dean seemed to be hanging on his every word as much as Sam was. "You were too small to remember, Sam, but Dean remembers the angel that your mother used to put on the tree. That's why it's so important to him."

"Oh. Okay," Sam answered.

Jim turned his attention back to Dean. "What do you say we go put this on top of the tree, Dean?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said with a small smile.

The two boys followed Bobby and Jim into the living room, stopping in front of the Christmas tree. Jim held the angel out for Dean to take and the boy cradled it gently in his hands.

"I think I'm going to have to pick you up so you can reach the top, Dean." He bent down to pick the boy up, but Dean stopped him.

"Wait! Let Sammy do it," Dean said.

"Are you sure, Dean?" Bobby asked, knowing how much the angel meant to the boy.

"Yeah. He's never done it before." Turning to his little brother, Dean held out the angel. "Be careful with it, Sammy, okay? Don't drop it."

Sam took the angel from Dean, holding it as gently as he could. "I won't drop it, Dean. I promise."

Jim picked Sam up and held him up as high as he could, thanking God that the boy wasn't very big. They all watched breathlessly as Sam reached out and placed the angel on top of the tree. Once it was settled at the top, they all sat down. Sam and Dean stared at the tree, but Bobby and Jim kept their eyes trained on the boys, amazed by the wonder they saw on their faces.

"It's so pretty, isn't it, Dean?" Sam asked as he stared at the angel.

"Yeah," Dean answered with a small smile. "It's just like I remember."

Jim stayed for the rest of the day, much to Sam and Dean's delight. They watched a few Christmas movies, had a snowball fight, and listened as Jim told them the Nativity story again. But, after dinner, they had to say goodbye to the man.

Dean hugged the man closely right before he left. "Thank you for bringing the angel, Pastor Jim," he said quietly.

"You're welcome, Dean. But, Bobby's the reason I knew to bring it to you, so make sure you thank him, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"You and Sam behave yourselves. I'll talk to you soon."

They all watched as Jim got into his car and drove off. Sam and Bobby went back into the house a few minutes later, but Dean stayed outside. When he finally came back in, Bobby was trying everything he could to get Sam to take a bath.

"Come on, kid. It's been a long day and it's almost your bedtime."

"I don't want to go to bed, Uncle Bobby. I'm not tired."

"You've been yawning for the last hour, Sam. And your daddy gave me strict instructions to put you to bed on time."

Sam was about to argue, but stopped when he saw his brother.

"Come on, Sammy. If you hurry up and take your bath, I'll read you an extra story."

"Okay!"

Sam jumped up and ran upstairs, leaving Dean and Bobby just standing there. Dean shifted nervously from foot to foot, wanting to tell Bobby thank you for the angel, but feeling embarrassed about it for some reason.

"Uncle Bobby? I, um…. I just wanted to say thanks for, um….. for the angel. You didn't have to do that just for me."

"All I did was make a call, kid. And it seemed important to you."

Dean looked embarrassed by that and Bobby found himself growing angry. At John Winchester, of course. The man and his unhealthy obsession was sorely to blame for Dean's difficulty in acting like a normal, selfish kid. Instead, he acted like a kid who thought he wasn't deserving of anyone doing anything extra for him.

"Dean, there's nothing wrong with wanting something for yourself. I could tell that having an angel on the tree was important to you, so I did what I could to find one."

Dean was quiet for several minutes before he finally spoke. "It's not fair, Uncle Bobby. Sam's never had a real Christmas and Dad doesn't even care."

Bobby wasn't surprised that the boy had turned the attention away from himself again. "It's not that he doesn't care, Dean. He's just got a lot on his mind."

"It's not fair to Sammy," Dean repeated.

"It's not fair to you, either," Bobby said. "Dean, I wish things could be different for you and your brother, and maybe someday it will. But, for now, your dad is doing what he thinks he has to do."

"I know. He's saving people and that's more important than Christmas. I get it. But, Sam…. Sam's important, too, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby's heart broke at the boy's words. Dean was always looking out for Sam, but Bobby suddenly realized that no one was looking out for Dean. And the sad part was that Dean didn't even comprehend the injustice of that. He struggled to find a way to make Dean understand that he was just as important as his brother, but before he could figure out how to do that, Sam's voiced echoed down the stairs.

"Dean! I'm ready!"

Dean gave Bobby a small smile before he headed up the stairs to take care of his brother. Bobby just watched him go.

* * *

Sam and Dean spent the next several days playing outside in the snow, only coming in the house periodically to warm up and get a snack before rushing back out to play. Bobby would watch from the window as the boys built snowmen and snow forts and as they bombarded each other with snowballs. Dean would usually go a little easy on Sam during the snowball fight, until he inevitably would get hit in the face with one of Sam's snowballs. Then it was an all-out war that either ended in the boys laughing and giggling as they sat around the fireplace trying to warm up or with Sam crying at the unfairness of Dean always winning.

In between the snowball fights and the cartoon marathons, Bobby tried to get in some of the training John ordered for his boys. Dean was supposed to be working on his knife-handling skills, as well as practicing with the bow and arrow, while Sam was to practice his hand-to-hand fighting techniques and wrestling moves. Both boys were also supposed to be learning how to read a map.

Sam enjoyed the map reading lessons, but hated the physical training. Dean was completely opposite, though. He thrived in the physical aspects of the training, but balked at anything that required him to sit down for extended periods of time. Overall, though, the training was going well.

John had called to check in a few times. He would always talk to Bobby first, then spend several minutes talking to Dean before finally talking to Sam. Bobby noticed that the boys were more subdued after each phone call, especially Dean.

Three days before Christmas, John called again. He spent longer than normal talking to Bobby and Dean could tell that Bobby was mad about something his dad was saying. Eventually, Bobby handed the phone to Dean.

"Hey, Dad."

"Dean, how are you? Are you boys behaving for Bobby?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered immediately.

"Bobby says your training is going good. How's Sammy?"

"He's okay. Uncle Bobby says he's getting really good at reading a map."

"Uncle Bobby?"

Dean was quiet for several long seconds before answering. "He said it was okay for us to call him that, Dad."

"It's fine, Dean. Just surprised me, that's all." John hesitated before continuing. "Dean, I know I said I'd be back by Christmas, but I don't think it's going to happen."

"You're not gonna be here for Christmas?"

"I'm afraid not, son. This job is proving to be harder than I thought."

"But, Dad….. It's Christmas! And you said you'd be here!"

"I can't just leave in the middle of a hunt, Dean. People are in danger here."

"Dad…."

"Damn it! I'm sorry, Dean. I'd be there if I could."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Dean said dejectedly.

"Dean…."

"Sammy wants to talk to you, Dad. Here he is…." Without even saying goodbye, Dean handed the phone to his little brother. He listened as Sam told John all about the snowball fight they had that morning and the snow fort they built. He could tell the exact second John told Sam that he wouldn't be home for Christmas. And in that second, he hated his father for breaking Sammy's heart.

Sam stopped talking and held the phone out for Dean. "Daddy wants to talk to you again, Dean," he said sadly. But Dean didn't take the phone. Instead, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Bobby to deal with an angry John Winchester and a devastated Sam Winchester. The last thing he heard before heading upstairs was Bobby asking John how he could live with himself for letting his boys down again.

* * *

Author's note: Poor Dean is beginning to learn just how obsessed his father is with hunting. And it's only going to get worse, right?

I love writing the boys with Bobby, so I hope you all don't mind. I know this story is called Raising Winchesters, but I think Bobby had just as much to do with raising Sam and Dean as John did. At least, in this story.

I'm a little behind in responding to reviews, but I hope to get to do that soon. Thank you all so much for reading and for reviewing. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 11

* * *

To say that John was unhappy with Dean refusing to talk to him on the phone was a massive understatement. The man didn't tolerate insolence or disrespect from his sons and they both knew it. Especially Dean.

It wasn't normal for Dean to act in such a way, so John knew that the boy was truly upset. And he understood why Dean was upset, too, but that didn't excuse his behavior. A part of him knew that he wasn't being fair… that he wasn't being a good father, but Sam and Dean _had_ to learn that his job was more important than the sentimentality of any commercialized holiday.

By the time he returned to Bobby's house, it was three days past Christmas. He tried to make it back in time, but the hunt was trickier than he had planned on. The two hunters that were working with him offered to finish the job so he could get back before Christmas, but John wasn't willing to leave without finishing. It was his hunt and he was the one responsible for making sure the job was done appropriately.

But, the second it was done, he jumped in the Impala, leaving the other two hunters to clean up the mess they'd made. He drove as fast and as long as he could, taking every short cut he could take, and stopping only long enough to go to the bathroom and drink some coffee. Even so, it took him a day and half of solid driving to get there, meaning that he was exhausted, hungry, and cranky when he finally arrived.

The first thing he noticed when he pulled up to Bobby's house was Sam playing out in the small yard all by himself. Looking around, he was surprised that there was no sign of Dean anywhere. Anger shot through him at the thought of Sam being so unprotected and he quickly turned the car off and stepped out.

"Daddy!" Sam, who had stopped running around when he heard the sound of the Impala pulling up, immediately ran over to the car. "You're home!"

It didn't escape John's notice that his youngest son called wherever they were staying at the moment home. He wasn't sure how that was supposed to make him feel, actually. A part of him was happy that Sam was able to adapt pretty easily to the frequent upheavals that constituted his life, but another part felt sad and a little guilty that Sam had no idea what the word home actually meant. John knew that he was solely responsible for that.

"Hey, Sammy," he said as he picked the boy up and clutched him tightly.

"You missed Christmas, Daddy! Wait 'til you see what Santa brought me! It's so cool! And Dean got something really cool, too."

"Where is Dean?" John asked as he looked around the yard.

Sam looked around, too, and shifted in John's arms. In an attempt to change the subject, Sam continued talking about Christmas. "Did Santa bring you something, Daddy? I bet you were good all year like me and Dean were."

John started walking towards the house, eager to not only get Sam inside where it was warmer, but to also figure out why Bobby and Dean were letting Sam out by himself. When he walked in, the first thing he saw was Dean sitting on the couch, staring at the still lit up Christmas tree. He looked around, but saw no sign of Bobby anywhere.

Dean's wide eyes jerked up from the tree as soon as he heard the sounds of John's footsteps coming towards him. They widened even further when he noticed that the man was carrying his little brother. "Dad, you're home," he said simply.

"Where's Bobby?" John asked.

"He had to go out to the salvage yard to look for a part. He left me in charge."

"Did he now?"

"Yes, sir. He said he'd only be gone about half an hour and that I could handle things here."

"And did you? Handle things here?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, wondering why his dad was acting funny and talking in such short sentences.

"If you were handling things here, why was Sammy playing outside all by himself?" John's face was turning redder by the second, something that neither boys failed to notice. Sam started shifting restlessly in his father's arms again, prompting John to set him down on his feet as he waited for Dean to answer. When it didn't look like the boy was going to, John continued. "Dean? I asked you a question. Why weren't you watching out for your brother?"

"I-I was, Dad," Dean stuttered as he tried to make sense of what was going on.

"How the hell can you watch out for him when he's out there and you're in here?!" John thundered angrily as he pointed towards the door.

Dean sent a frantic look over to Sam, who looked like he was just about to burst into tears. He had no idea that Sam was outside playing, because he had been asleep upstairs in their room just half an hour before. Sam had wanted to go play outside earlier, but Dean wasn't in the mood to be out in the cold. Sam had been upset when he told him he couldn't go outside and Dean watched as the boy ran upstairs and slammed the bedroom door behind him. When he checked on him fifteen minutes later, Sam was curled up on the bed, sound asleep.

That was when Bobby told him he needed to go look for a car part and that he'd be right back. Dean had returned to sitting in front of the Christmas tree, staring up at the Angel that perched up on top, thankful for the chance to relax for a change. But, now it seemed that Sam had woken up and decided to go outside to play on his own. Dean had no idea how he'd missed the sound of his little brother coming downstairs or the opening and closing of the door without him hearing anything. And he had no idea how to handle the situation they were now in.

He was really angry at Sam for sneaking out the way he did, but he didn't want to see him get in trouble with their dad. Dean hated it when John punished his brother and would do anything to keep it from happening. Regardless of the fact that Sam snuck out, it was still his job to keep an eye on him. And he had apparently failed at that. Sending Sam a quick look that said '"let me handle this," Dean finally answered his father.

"I, uh… I just came inside for a second, Dad. To, uh…. to get a drink. I was going right back outside."

"Then why were you sitting in here, staring up at that damn tree?"

Dean looked over at Sam, whose face was now covered in tears. "I just sat down for a second, Dad. That's all."

"You didn't even hear me drive up, Dean. What if I'd been someone else? I could have grabbed Sam and ran with him."

Dean knew that no matter what he said, he was in a world of trouble, so he just stayed quiet. Of course, that quiet didn't last too long, because seconds later, John was ordering him upstairs to his room. Dean turned to go, not surprised to hear Sam following him. But, they had only gone a few steps when John's voice thundered again.

"Sam, stay down here."

The two boys shared a look before Dean continued up the stairs and Sam went to sit on the couch. Once he was in his room, Dean sat down on the bed, trying to prepare himself for the wrath he was about to face. He hadn't seen his dad so mad in a long time and he was suddenly feeling rather sorry for himself.

* * *

John made sure that Sam had something to occupy himself with and gave him strict instructions to stay in the living room before he headed upstairs to deal with his oldest. Before opening the door to the room Sam and Dean shared, John stopped and took in several deep breaths. If he were being honest, he knew he was too angry to be dealing with Dean, so he tried to calm himself down before entering.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, John opened the door to the room and stepped in. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking miserable, and John felt his resolve weaken a bit. All it took to strengthen it again, though, was to think about what could have happened to Sam.

He was having a hard time believing that Dean would put his brother in danger like that and the more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Dean's sole job was to always look out for Sam and he trusted the boy to do the job right. He couldn't help but think that maybe his trust was misplaced. _Or was it just that he wasn't man enough to admit that maybe he had no right to place that responsibility on the shoulders of such a young boy in the first place?_

Gearing himself up for the task ahead, he walked into the small room and pulled the chair out from underneath the small desk by the window. He moved it into the middle of the room, dropping it right in front of where Dean was sitting. Dean was eyeing him nervously.

After a long pause, in which John took in the slumped shoulders and shallow breathing of the boy in front of him, he finally spoke. "What the hell were you thinking, Dean? What the hell's gotten into you lately?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, even though he knew that was never an acceptable answer in the eyes of his father. When John cleared his throat in annoyance, he frantically searched for a real answer. "I don't know, sir." The second those words came out of his mouth, he groaned, knowing that wasn't an acceptable answer, either.

"Dean, you know better than to answer that way. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer."

Dean knew that he was in trouble no matter what he said, so his sole purpose was to keep his brother out of trouble. "I guess I was just tired, Dad. I just needed a few minutes to myself." He watched as his father's face grew redder.

"You needed a few minutes….."

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, you _know_ what's out there. You _know_ about the monsters and the evil things that are lurking everywhere, just waiting for someone to let their guard down enough for them to move in. _You know this stuff, son._ And yet you left your little brother out there all alone? To fend for himself?"

"It was just a few minutes, Dad."

"There's no such thing as 'just a few minutes,' Dean. Your job is to take care of your brother. Your job is to make sure he's safe. You don't get to take a few minutes for yourself. Not if it means that Sam is left unprotected."

John noticed the look of indignation that shot across Dean's face and his anger flared. "What? You think that's not fair? Is that it? You think it's not fair that you have to watch out for your brother? Sam's just a baby, Dean. He can't protect himself. He doesn't know what's out there. He relies on us to keep him safe."

Dean wanted to ask whose job it was to keep _him_ safe. He wanted to ask why _he_ had to be the one to protect Sam when it was usually a father's job to do that. But he didn't. He knew better than to ask that. He also knew that what John was doing was important. He _knew_ it. And he tried his best to keep Sam safe. He really did. But, sometimes it was just too much. Sometimes, he just couldn't do it. And yes, sometimes he thought it was unfair.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, not knowing what else to say. He knew it wasn't enough and he knew he was about to be punished, but he didn't know what else to do. He thought it was weird, though, that he felt more accepting of the fact that he was about to be punished when he wasn't really the one at fault. Maybe because in a way, he was just doing what he was supposed to be doing….. protecting Sammy.

"I don't know what's going on with you, Dean, but it needs to stop. You're not holding up your end of the deal, son. And your attitude hasn't been the greatest, either. Don't think I forgot about our conversation last week. I told Sam to put you back on the phone and he said you didn't want to talk to me, that you had walked away. That's not your choice, boy. You don't get to decide when and if you want to talk to me, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not just talking to hear my own voice, Dean. When I say something, you listen. When I tell you to do something, you do it. I give orders, you follow orders. That's how it works in this family. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. What's the last order I give to you before I leave for a job?"

Dean looked miserably up to his dad. "Watch out for Sammy," he answered.

"And did you follow that order today?"

"No, sir."

"And what happens when you don't follow orders, Dean? What are the consequences of insubordination?"

"You punish me."

"Yes, I punish you. I don't like having to do that, Dean, but you need discipline to be a good soldier. It's my job to provide that for you."

Dean wanted to argue that he wasn't just a soldier, but he didn't. He liked being a soldier in the fight against evil. What he didn't like was being thought of as only a soldier. He wanted his dad to think of him as more than that sometimes, but he knew that was a lot to ask for.

"I know, Dad."

"Let's get this over with, then. Come here, son."

Dean stood up and walked over to his dad. He wanted to beg his dad not to spank him, but he didn't. Instead, he allowed himself to be guided over the man's knee, thinking the whole time that at least it wasn't Sammy getting spanked.

* * *

Bobby was surprised when he saw the sleek, black Chevy in front of the house, wondering how it was he didn't hear the motor. He had been on the very far side of the salvage yard, so he was pretty far away from the house. But, it still surprised him that he didn't hear anything.

Stepping into the house, he immediately noticed Sam sitting on the couch, his elbows wrapped around his legs and his face buried in his knees. The next thing he noticed was the sound of what could only be someone getting a spanking coming from upstairs. He could hear loud smacking sounds followed by yelps and "ows" that echoed noisily. Wondering how it was possible that Dean had already gotten into some trouble with his father, Bobby called for some answers from Sam.

"What's going on, Sam? Why is Dean getting punished?"

Sam looked up at him with his enormous puppy-dog eyes, making Bobby's heart skip a beat. "Daddy's mad, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at the obviousness of that comment, but he knew he shouldn't expect anything different from the boy. _He was just a baby, after all._

"What did Dean do? I've only been gone for forty minutes, so how did the boy already get himself into trouble?" He was surprised when Sam suddenly started crying. "Hey, kid….it's okay."

"Nuh uh…. Daddy's spanking Dean, Uncle Bobby!"

"I know, Sam. I can hear it for myself. But, why is your daddy spanking Dean?"

"Cuz I went outside…."

Bobby couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Your daddy's punishing Dean because you went outside? Since when is Dean not allowed to take you outside, Sam?"

Sam started crying even harder. "I went outside by myself, Uncle Bobby. I didn't mean to."

"What do you mean you didn't mean to?" Bobby asked.

"I just wanted to play, but Dean said I couldn't. He was being a meanie."

"Sam, are you telling me that you snuck outside because Dean told you that you couldn't go out there?"

"Yeah. And now Daddy's mad at Dean because I was out there and he was in here."

Bobby was still confused, but he was starting to piece it all together. "Damn it! Dean didn't tell your Daddy that he didn't know you were outside, did he? So, you're Dad came back, found you outside by yourself, found your brother in here, and assumed that Dean just wasn't watching out for you. And your fool brother didn't stand up for himself because he didn't want you to get in trouble, right?"

Bobby wasn't really expecting Sam to answer. He knew the boy was scared and really didn't understand everything that Dean was doing for him, but he hoped that one day he would, that Sam would one day realize how lucky he was to have Dean as a big brother. Without dwelling on the confounded situation any longer, Bobby turned to the stairs. "Stay here, Sam. I'll be back in a few."

Without waiting for an answer, he made his way up to John and Dean.

* * *

John was just about to wrap things up when the door suddenly flew open to reveal a very angry looking Bobby. His raised hand paused in the air and suddenly the room was just filled with the sounds of Dean crying.

"John, hold up…" Bobby said as he stepped in the room.

"Back off, Singer. This is between me and my boy here."

Dean had stopped struggling at the sound of Bobby's voice and he lay limply over John's knees, thankful for the reprieve.

"John, we need to talk."

"I'm almost done here, Bobby. Then we'll talk."

"We need to talk now, John. You're done."

"I'll be the judge of that," John growled as his grip on Dean tightened.

Bobby sighed in frustration as he ran his hand over his face. "John, please…. This wasn't Dean's fault."

"What are you talking about?" John asked.

"Let Dean up and I'll tell you."

John loosened his grip on Dean and helped the boy to stand. Dean quickly wiped his face in the sleeve of his shirt as he looked between the two men. John looked up at Bobby expectantly.

"You didn't get the whole story, here, John."

Dean suddenly realized what was happening. "Uncle Bobby, please…" he begged.

Now John was looking even more confused as he watched the silent communication going on between his friend and his son. "What the hell is going on here?"

Bobby gave Dean an apologetic look before answering. "Dean didn't know that Sam was outside, John. Sam snuck out on his own."

"What? What makes you think that?"

"I came in to find Sam crying his eyes out and you up here with Dean. Sam told me what happened."

John looked over at Dean who had a panicked look on his face. "Is that true, Dean?"

"Dad…."

"Damn it, Dean. Tell me the truth. Did you know that Sam was outside by himself?"

"No, sir. But, Dad…. I should've been watching him better. If I had, he wouldn't have been able to sneak out. It's my fault."

"Where did you think he was, Dean?"

"I thought he was up here. I told him that he couldn't go outside and he got upset. He came up here because he was mad at me and he fell asleep. So, I went back downstairs. But, I should have stayed up here with him, Dad. It's my fault."

"Dean…."

"You can't punish him, Dad. Please."

Bobby and John shared a look and Bobby turned and left the room, heading back down to Sam. John stood up and paced the small room, running his fingers through his hair and his hands over his face. He was much too tired to be dealing with this, but he knew he had to.

"Dean, why did you lie about this? You know how I feel about lying."

"I-I didn't want Sam to be punished."

"Why? Are you afraid I'm going to hurt him?"

"He's just a kid, Dad. He's really little and he doesn't understand."

"He understands more than you think, son. Sammy's smart. He knows he's not supposed to sneak out like that. And if he knows that, then he knows he'll get punished if he gets caught."

"But…."

"Dean, you can't protect Sam from things like this. He has to learn that there are consequences to his actions and choices. If you keep taking the blame for him, he won't learn these things."

"I should've been watching him better," Dean argued.

"You were watching him just fine. You thought he was asleep upstairs. He's the one that was being sneaky."

There was a long silence where Dean was trying his best to figure out how to keep his dad from spanking Sam and John was trying to figure out how best to deal with Sam's misbehavior and Dean's subsequent lying.

"Dean, I need you to trust me, okay? I know you're worried for your brother, but there's no reason to be. He'll be punished and he'll be fine. Okay?"

"Okay," Dean reluctantly agreed.

"Now, we need to talk about your lying to me and this penchant you have for covering up for your brother. It has to stop, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

"I mean it, Dean. I won't tolerate you lying to me. And Sam needs to learn to take responsibility for his choices. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Dean paused and then looked up at his dad. "Are you, um… are you going to punish me for lying to you?"

John looked down at his son. "I should, but since I already spanked you for something that you didn't do, we'll call it even. But, don't do it again."

Dean allowed his dad to pull him into his side. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"I know. Now, let me go deal with your brother and then the two of you can show me what Santa brought you for Christmas. Sam said it was cool, but I'm betting that my presents are even better."

"You brought us presents?" Dean asked.

"Of course, I did." John pulled Dean in even closer. "I didn't want to miss Christmas, Dean. Just so you know."

And Dean did know.

* * *

Bobby tried to distract Dean while John was dealing with Sam, but it didn't work very well. Mostly because Sam was really vocal when he was being punished. Luckily, Dean only heard four smacks being delivered to his brother's backside and he was relieved when just minutes later, John came back downstairs with a subdued Sam on his hip.

Sam was always quiet in the immediate aftermath of a punishment, but Dean knew how to liven him up. After John settled the boy on the couch, Dean sat down next to him. "Hey, Sammy, guess what? Dad brought us presents."

He smiled at the way Sam's eyes lit up at the news. Sam wiped his runny nose on his shirt sleeve as he looked seriously at his brother. "Dean? I'm sorry you got in trouble. Daddy said that it was my fault and that I wasn't being a very good little brother."

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm the one that lied, remember? I said it was my fault."

"But, Daddy said I should've been aponsible."

Dean laughed at Sam's mispronunciation. "It's responsible, Sammy. Not aponsible."

"Yeah, that's what Daddy said I should've been."

Dean, Bobby, and John all laughed. Seconds later, Sam joined in and soon things were back to a relative normal. Sam and Dean showed their dad what Santa had left for them and Dean made it a point to let John and Bobby know, without alerting Sam, that he knew Santa wasn't real. John pulled out two weirdly wrapped packages and gave them to his sons. Bobby thought he looked a little nervous as they opened them and he figured that the man just really wanted his boys to like what he had picked out. Luckily, they both loved their gifts. Sammy immediately started playing with the metal puzzles, his face scrunched up in concentration. And Dean was flipping the knife around, surprising both hunters with the finesse and skill he was showing. John made him promise that he wouldn't play with the knife without adult supervision. Then John promised that he would teach Dean the proper knife handling techniques as soon as possible.

* * *

Eventually, Sam and Dean were tucked up in bed for the night. John and Bobby had already been by to say goodnight and Dean had just finished reading Sam a story. Just as he was about to doze off, Dean heard Sam say his name.

"Dean? What was that word that dad said I should've been?"

"Responsible," Dean answered with a yawn. He was just about to doze off when he heard Sammy again.

"Dean?"

"C'mon, Sammy. Go to sleep…."

"Okay, but I just wanna ask one more question…."

"Fine," Dean sighed.

"Dean? What does re….responsible mean?"

Dean couldn't help but laugh before he explained the meaning of the word as best as he could to his little brother.

* * *

Author's note: Well, this chapter kind of took itself in its own direction, lol. It really didn't turn out how I planned, but that's the fun of writing, if you ask me. Sometimes, these characters take on a life of their own and a writer just has to go with it.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. And for sticking with this story. I've got a few more (hopefully) exciting ideas for it, so hang in there. And just in case you're interested….I've posted a two chapter Valentine's story called **A Very Supernatural Valentine's Day** and a one-shot called **With Everything I Had** (based off of episode 10x09) recently. Check it out, if you're so inclined.


	12. Chapter 12

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 12

* * *

It wasn't long before John was eager to get back out on the road and this time he wanted to take Sam and Dean with him. Bobby tried to talk the man into letting the boys stay with him, but John refused. Dean was happy to be going along with his dad, but he was sad to leave Bobby's, too. Especially since he was starting to feel sick.

He didn't tell his dad or Bobby, but he had a horrible sore throat and his head was pounding like the drum beat of one of his favorite Zeppelin songs. Loud and powerful like Zeppelin. But not enjoyable, at all. In fact, his head was pounding so hard that he thought he might throw up.

After breakfast, John sent the boys upstairs to pack up their stuff. Sam was excited to leave once he found out that they were staying in a cabin by a lake, but Dean knew something his little brother didn't. Yeah, they would be staying in a cabin by a lake, but it wouldn't be like a vacation or anything. Instead, they would be stuck inside the cabin with the doors and windows salted while their dad was out hunting whatever monster had garnered his attention.

Dean knew better than to think that any part of the situation would be fun in any way. He knew that it would more than likely be miserable, in fact. Trying to keep Sam entertained in that situation definitely wouldn't be easy and he was pretty sure he wasn't up to the task.

But that didn't stop John Winchester, of course. Nothing got in the way of a hunt.

Before Dean was ready, they were all packed up and standing out on the front porch, saying goodbye to Bobby. John had already said his goodbye and was putting their duffels in the trunk, obviously anxious to get on the road.

"You boys be good for your daddy, you hear?" Bobby said as he looked down at the two brothers. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he was really going to miss having the two of them around.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

"Are you okay, Dean? Your voice sounds a little funny, kid."

"I'm okay. I'm just thirsty, I think."

"You better go on in and get a drink of water, then. Your daddy's not likely to stop any time soon."

"I'll be okay." Dean knew that a drink of water wasn't going to help him at all and he didn't want to make his dad mad by stalling any longer. The man was already looking at them rather impatiently. "Let's go, Sammy. Dad's waiting for us."

"Goodbye, Uncle Bobby. I'm gonna miss you." Sam threw himself at Bobby's legs, wrapping his arms around them.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, kid. But, I'm sure I'll be seein' you soon."

"Promise?" Sam asked as he looked up at the man.

"I'll be talkin' to your daddy, Sam, and I'll make sure he knows that he can bring you boys over any time."

"Sam! Dean! Let's go, boys!" John's voice thundered. Sam immediately let go of Bobby's legs and turned to run to the Impala.

"Bye, um….Uncle Bobby. Thanks for…. thanks for everything." Dean wished that he could tell Bobby how much he appreciated everything the man had done. The Christmas tree, the angel topper, the presents…..

"Bye, Dean. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will, sir."

Bobby watched as Dean followed his brother to the car. He was surprised to find that he felt the same pain in his heart he felt every time he thought of his wife and he realized just how much he had come to care for the two Winchester boys. Turning away from the image of the Impala driving away, Bobby went back into his house, noticing immediately how quiet and empty it suddenly seemed. And not for the first time, he found himself cursing the day he ever met John Winchester.

* * *

Dean sat in the back of the Impala with Sam curled up next to him. He was starting to ache all over and he wanted to push Sam away from him, but he didn't. Sam wasn't the greatest traveler, but he usually did okay if he was sitting right next to his brother. Dean didn't understand why that was, but he had learned the hard way not to question it.

John had been mostly quiet over the last few hours, listening as Sam chattered away over anything and everything. He was relieved that Dean was back there to harness Sam's energy and to keep him occupied. He felt a little guilty at leaving that spectacular task to Dean, but he was too selfish to do anything differently.

As the miles passed, the boys grew more and more restless. John couldn't help but notice that Dean was getting annoyed with Sam's constant chatter, which surprised him. Usually Dean had the patience of a saint when it came to his little brother. _More patience than he himself ever had, for sure._

Just when he thought that maybe Sam had fallen asleep, a loud cry erupted from the backseat, making him swerve the car slightly.

"OW! Move over, Sam. And quit kicking me!"

"I didn't kick you! I was just moving!"

"You _did_ kick me! Twice! So scoot over!"

When Sam didn't move fast enough, Dean leaned over and pushed him away, causing him to cry out.

"OW! That hurt, Dean!"

"I told you to move, dummy!"

"Daddy, Dean pushed me," Sammy cried.

John could tell that Sam was just seconds away from having a complete breakdown and he knew he needed to stop it straightaway. "Both of you better knock it off," he said loudly. "Dean, keep your hands off your brother and stop calling him names."

"He won't leave me alone, Dad," Dean argued. "Tell him to stay on his side of the car!"

"I wasn't doing anything!" Sam yelled. "You're just being a meanie!"

"I AM NOT!" Dean yelled back.

"HEY! Both of you knock it off, unless you want me to pull this car over! And I'm pretty sure you don't want that to happen." By this time, John was glaring at them in the rearview mirror and he was pleased to see both boys instantly stop what they were doing. "Sam, move over to the window. Dean? Read your brother a story or something."

"I don't want to," Dean grumbled.

"It wasn't a suggestion, boy," John growled back. "Do we need to have a conversation about following orders?"

"No, sir."

John watched as Dean angrily grabbed a book out of the bag of toys on the floorboard. "Watch the attitude, Dean," he said simply.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered in a much more subdued voice.

John continued to watch the boys through the rearview mirror, happy to see that they both seemed to have moved on. He listened as Dean read the story to Sam and he noticed that Dean's voice sounded a little hoarse. Waiting until Dean had finished the book, he finally asked him how he was feeling, hoping that the kid wasn't coming down with something.

"Are you feeling okay, Dean? Your voice sounds funny."

"I'm fine, Dad. Just tired, I guess."

John looked at his watch and then over to the map spread out on the seat beside him. "Why don't you boys take a nap? We'll stop for lunch in about an hour, okay?" He was expecting an argument from both of them and was surprised when it never came. He was even more surprised when he looked back a few minutes later to find both boys sound asleep.

* * *

An hour later, John stopped at a diner right off the highway. He hated to wake the boys up, but the next decent sized town wasn't for at least another hundred miles. And he figured the boys were probably just as hungry as he was.

It took longer than usual to get Dean to wake up. It wasn't until he promised the kid a piece of pie that Dean finally opened his eyes completely. "I thought that might get your attention," John laughed.

Sam, who was still trying to wake all the way up, held his hands up to his dad, begging to be carried into the diner. Dean couldn't help but feel a little jealous, since he felt like his legs weighed at least a hundred pounds each and he wasn't sure he could make it on his own. The short walk to the diner left him feeling exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to climb back into the backseat of the Impala and go back to sleep.

John hadn't really noticed Dean's lack of energy though. He was thoroughly distracted by Sam's exuberant questions of whether or not he thought that pancakes were better than waffles and if he thought the diner had French toast.

By the time they were seated in a corner booth, Dean's head was spinning. He sank down in the soft seat and immediately leaned up against the window, allowing his head to fall against the glass. Sam was still chattering on and on and Dean was thankful that John's attention was focused on his little brother.

After a few minutes, the waitress stopped to take their order. Dean listened as John ordered eggs and bacon for himself and a stack of chocolate chip pancakes for Sam. He didn't realize that the waitress was ready to take his order until his dad cleared his throat loudly and called his name.

"Dean? What are you having?" John asked.

Dean moved his head slowly to look at his dad and then up at the waitress. "I'll have a cheeseburger," he finally said. "And a coke."

Once the waitress left, he turned back to the window, leaning his head against the cool glass again. He was suddenly feeling both hot and cold at the same time and wondered how that could be.

Sam continued to babble on about whatever popped up in his head and John acted like he was listening. Dean knew that his dad had a knack for tuning things out that he didn't want to listen to without making it seem like he wasn't listening. With a few well-placed responses, Sam never knew that he didn't have a hundred percent of his dad's attention. Dean thought he should learn how to do that himself.

Fifteen minutes later, the waitress brought out their food. Dean was hit with a wave of nausea when she placed the greasy cheeseburger down in front of him. Taking some slow deep breaths, he grabbed a French fry and started nibbling on it. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to eat the cheeseburger. He also knew that there was no way his dad would let him get away with that.

Luckily, John was digging into his own meal, so it wasn't readily apparent to him that Dean wasn't really eating. They were almost halfway through the meal when John finally realized that he wasn't.

"Something wrong with your burger?" he asked as he eyed the food on Dean's plate.

"No, sir," Dean answered.

"Well, then get to eating, Dean. We don't have all day. I want to make it to Rushville before dark."

Dean picked up his burger and took a small bite, feeling his dad's eyes on him the whole time. Putting the burger back down on his plate, he leaned back and slowly chewed. He could feel his stomach roiling, but with his dad watching him so closely, he had no choice but to continue. A few minutes later, he was relieved when Sam started asking John a bunch of random questions. With his dad's attention momentarily diverted, Dean made quick waste of the burger.

Whoever cleaned the diner that night wouldn't be happy to find a half-eaten cheeseburger stuffed in the seat of the booth.

* * *

Once they were back on the road again, Dean quickly fell back to sleep. He had no idea how long he was asleep, but when he finally woke up again, the sun was much lower in the sky.

"Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up, huh?" John said as he looked back at Dean.

Dean grinned sheepishly back at his dad. "I-I didn't sleep good last night," he finally said.

"And now you probably won't sleep good tonight, either. You've been sleeping for almost three hours."

"Really?"

"Yep. And Sam was just starting to get a little anxious without you."

Dean looked over at his brother who was sound asleep. "How long has he been asleep?"

John's eyes moved over to Sam. "Only about thirty minutes. But we shouldn't let him sleep too much longer or he won't be sleeping tonight. And I'm way too tired to be staying awake with a wide-awake Sammy."

They let Sam sleep for another fifteen minutes, but then John told Dean to wake him up. Dean was expecting Sam to wake up grumpy, but instead Sam woke up with a big smile on his face.

"What are you smiling for?" Dean asked.

"I had the bestest dream, Dean," Sam said. "You were flying in the air like a bird and I was trying to catch you. Then you picked me up and we were flying so high! Higher than the moon, Dean! And I wasn't even scared cuz I was with _you_! Wasn't that the bestest dream?"

Dean swallowed hard before answering his brother. His eyes teared up a little at the pain in his throat. "That _was_ a great dream, Sammy."

Sam continued to talk about his dream, explaining to his dad and brother how his tummy felt funny when the Dean in his dreams swooped down and up repeatedly. Dean listened patiently to his brother's story as he tried not to move his head too much. Every movement, no matter how small, sent sharp pains through his head and he was pretty sure he hadn't ever felt so miserable in his entire life.

After almost another hour, John stopped the Impala at a small grocery store. "Either of you need to use the bathroom?" he asked as he turned around to look at his sons.

"I do!" Sam yelled immediately.

"I don't have to," Dean answered afterwards. He was hoping and praying that his dad wouldn't make him take Sam to the bathroom, but that was exactly what happened.

"Dean, take Sam to the bathroom while I pick up some supplies. And don't take your eyes off of him, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Dean groaned. "Come on, Sammy." He grabbed Sam by the hand and pulled him out of the car. It took him several seconds of standing before he didn't feel like his legs were going to give out on him.

"Come on, Dean! I really gotta go," Sam squealed as he started doing his 'I gotta pee" dance.

Dean started walking faster, knowing that if he didn't hurry his little brother would have an accident. He also knew that if that happened, their dad would blame him for letting it happen.

Once they were done in the bathroom, Dean led Sam back out to the Impala. They both climbed into the back. Sam picked up one of his toy soldiers and started playing with it, while Dean stared out of the window, watching for John. He was more than ready to be done for the day and he really hoped they were close to the cabin.

Almost twenty minutes later, John returned to the car, his arms loaded with bags of groceries and a case of water. After stowing it all in the trunk, John got in the car and started the engine.

"Daddy? I'm hungry," Sam said as they pulled back out onto the highway.

John reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a candy bar. He tossed it into the backseat and Sam scrambled to get it. "Share it with your brother, Sam," John said.

Dean noticed that it was just a plain chocolate bar and he waited for Sam to start complaining about having to share it. But, he didn't. Instead, he opened up the bar, broke it in half, and handed one half over to Dean.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said quietly. "You can have my half, too."

"Really?" Sam's eyes lit up at the thought of having a whole candy bar to himself.

"Yeah, I'm not really hungry."

Sam took a big bite out of the chocolate and then turned to his brother with a chocolate covered grin. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean just nodded at his brother before leaning his head back against the seat.

* * *

They drove for another forty minutes before John turned the car onto an almost hidden gravel road. Five minutes later, he stopped the car in front of a rather run-down cabin. Dean's heart sank at the sight of the place, wondering why they couldn't stay some place nice for a change.

"This is it," John said as he turned off the engine. Looking up at the sky, he noticed the dark clouds rolling in. "Let's get everything unpacked before it starts raining."

Dean heaved himself out of the car, keeping his hand on the door long enough for the sudden bout of dizziness he felt to pass. Once it did, he made his way over to the trunk and grabbed his and Sam's duffels. Sam was carrying in the small bag of toys.

They followed John up to the cabin. "Watch out, boys. These steps look a little rotten."

Sam and Dean walked closely behind their father, avoiding the third step completely. Once they were up on the small porch, they waited as John unlocked the door. Dean didn't know what to expect, but his jaw dropped when the door opened and they walked in.

The place was a dump.

There was a small living room and an even smaller kitchen, at first glance. The couch and sofa in the living room were sagging and had giant rips in the fabric. There was a beat up coffee table sitting on a threadbare rug and a table next to the couch that held a lamp with a broken lampshade. The small kitchen had one small light hanging from the ceiling. The sink faucet was leaking and several of the cupboard doors were hanging off their hinges. Dean noticed a rather thick layer of dust covering everything.

"We're staying here?" he asked incredulously.

"I know it's not much, but it'll have to do. Beggars can't be choosers, Dean. This place was offered to us free of charge, so we'll have to make do."

"Dad, this place is a dump!" Dean's voice was laced with frustration.

"It just needs a little cleaning up," John said, his voice full of warning. Stepping over to the lamp, he clicked it on, but nothing happened. "Bobby said there's a generator out back, so I'll be back in a second. Dean, go look through the bedrooms and see what we have to work with."

Dean watched his dad walk back outside before doing what he was told. The sun was almost completely set, so everything inside the cabin was almost completely dark. Digging around in his duffel, Dean pulled out his flashlight. Once the light was on, he headed over to the small door that he hoped led to the rest of the house. Sam followed close behind him.

"I don't like it here, Dean," Sam said. "It's scary."

"It's okay, Sammy. It'll be better when Dad gets the lights on."

They made their way down a small hallway that had three doors off of it. The first door was a small bedroom that had nothing but a twin bed and a dresser in the corner. Dean noticed the same layer of thick dust in the room.

The next room was a small bathroom. Both the toilet seat and the sink had a crack in it, but the bathtub looked to be intact. Not that Dean really wanted to take a bath in it.

The last door was another bedroom. This one had a larger bed in it, as well as a dresser and a small desk. This room actually looked a lot cleaner than the rest and Dean just figured that whoever had been staying here mostly stayed in this room.

Once he had checked out the closets and under the beds at Sam's request, Dean led Sam back to the living room. Just as they walked in, the lamp came on, bathing the room with a yellow light. Seconds later, John came back in.

"There you go. Now we have some power," he said with a grin. "And look what else I found…."

Grabbing a bag from behind him, John pulled out some cleaning supplies. "Start cleaning this place up, Dean. I'm going to go bring the groceries in."

Dean took the bag of supplies from his dad and started looking through it. There wasn't much in it, but he figured it was enough to make the place a little better, at least. "Come on, Sam. You can help me."

They spent the better part of an hour trying to clear away some of the dust and cobwebs. By the time they were done, Dean's head was pounding worse than ever and he was sure he was just one second away from passing out. John had brought in all the groceries and was trying to put together a quick meal for them, so Dean sat down on the couch and rested his head back. Within two minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

John knew that the cabin wasn't a suitable place to be bringing his boys, but he didn't have any other choice. His funds were running low and he couldn't afford to waste money on a motel room when the cabin was his for free. He felt a little better once the cabin had been cleaned a little, at least. He also felt better after laying down some salt lines and starting a warm fire in the fireplace.

After making a quick dinner of ham sandwiches and potato chips, he called Sam and Dean over to the table. He didn't miss the way Dean stumbled to the table and it suddenly occurred to him how pale the kid was looking.

Once they were all at the table, he watched as Dean picked at his food, obviously steering clear of the potato chips on his plate. He watched as Dean took small bites of the sandwich and small sips of water, his face scrunching up every time he had to swallow.

"What's wrong with you, Dean?" he finally asked.

"Nothing," Dean answered after a particularly painful swallow.

"Don't lie to me, boy," John warned. "Now, what's wrong?"

Dean hesitated, but knew that he had no choice but to answer. "I don't really feel good, dad," he finally answered.

"In what way don't you feel good?"

"My throat hurts and my head feels like it's going to explode," Dean confessed.

John eyed his son closely. "How long have you been feeling like that?"

Dean swallowed painfully. "Since this morning," he finally admitted.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Dean didn't know how to answer his dad, so he just kept quiet. John stood up and walked over to his son, placing the back of his hand on Dean's forehead. "You're definitely running a fever," he said as he leaned down. "Open up and let me see your throat."

Dean opened his mouth and tilted his head upwards.

"Your throat is pretty red, too." John sighed deeply. "Damn it, Dean. You should have told me. Now, I'm going to have to drive back to the store to get some medication."

"I'm okay, Dad. I don't need any. I just really want to go to bed."

"There's no reason for you to suffer. I'm just going to drive back to the store."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"Next time, you tell me you're sick. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I mean it, Dean. You're being sick is not something to hide from me. Understand?"

Dean nodded miserably at his dad.

"Okay, I want both of you to get ready for bed. I'm going to finish laying some salt lines and then I'll head back into town."

"Can't we go with you?" Dean asked, suddenly desperate to not be left alone in the cabin. "Please?"

"No, you're staying here. You don't need to be going back out in the cold, Dean."

"But, Dad…."

"I said you're staying here."

"Yes, sir."

John grabbed his duffel and rifled through it. Once he found what he was looking for, he turned back to Dean. Dean was surprised to see him holding out a gun. "Here you go, Dean. Keep this with you at all times, okay? And remember your training. Safety on at all times and keep it away from Sam. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered as he nervously took the gun from his dad. He had been training with the man for almost a year and while he knew his dad thought he was a natural at shooting, guns still made him nervous.

"And what are the other rules?"

Dean wanted to roll his eyes, but he relished the safety of his backside enough to not do it. "Never point a gun at anything you're not willing to shoot and kill. Shoot first, ask questions later. Be ready for anything. And respect the gun."

John nodded his approval. "Okay, then, I'll be back in about an hour. Lock the door behind me. Don't open it for anyone. Don't mess up the salt lines. And watch out for Sammy."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, trying to keep the fear he was feeling out of his voice.

"You can stay out here on the couch until I get back, if you want. Or you can go on to bed. I'll be back as fast as I can."

Dean and Sam watched as their dad walked out the door. Dean didn't want to admit it, but he felt like crying. He knew it was probably because he was feeling so bad, but it was also because they were in a strange cabin in the middle of nowhere and he had to protect his little brother.

"Come on, Sam. Let's get ready for bed and I'll read you a story."

Sam, who hadn't said a word for quite a while, looked up at his brother, his big eyes glistening with unshed tears. Dean knew that Sam was scared and it made him really angry at his dad. _What kind of dad left their kids all alone in the middle of nowhere?_

Knowing that it would only be worse if he dwelled on the situation, Dean took Sam by the hand and led him to the bathroom. While Sam was brushing his teeth and washing his face, Dean pulled out his pajamas, getting them ready for Sam. Eventually, they were both ready for bed.

"Hey, Sam…. What do you say we wait out on the couch for Dad? The light is brighter out there, so I can see the book better."

"Okay," Sam answered as he followed his brother back out to the living room.

Dean settled against the arm of the couch and waited for Sam to settle in next to him. Once he was, Dean grabbed the blanket and threw it over the both of them. The blanket was a little short, so he made sure the majority of it was covering Sam.

Once they were settled, Dean took a few deep breaths and started reading the story. He was almost to the end of the book when the lights suddenly flickered and went out. Both boys let out a small cry at the sudden blackness they found themselves in. Because of the clouds in the sky, there was very little moonlight coming in through the windows, meaning that it was almost pitch black inside the cabin.

"Dean! I'm scared," Sam cried as he clutched onto his brother tightly.

"It's okay, Sam. The generator must have run out of gas or something."

"I want Daddy," Sam sobbed.

Dean wanted his daddy, too, but he knew he couldn't let Sam see how scared he really was. "He'll be back soon, Sammy. And he'll fix the generator."

"It's too dark, Dean! I can't see anything!"

Dean tried to calm his brother down, but it wasn't working. He could feel panic building inside his own chest, so he made himself stop and take in some deep breaths just like his dad always told him. After half a minute of deep breathing, Dean was surprised that he was starting to feel better. "Listen, Sam… I need to go get the flashlight, okay? I think the last time I saw it, it was on the table."

"Don't leave me, Dean!" Sam wailed. Dean felt bad that his little brother was so overcome by fear.

"It's okay. I won't leave you, okay? You can come with me." He felt Sam's grip tighten on his arm as he stood up. Without even thinking about it, Dean leaned down and picked Sam up, tucking him onto his hip. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother tightly.

Dean hadn't even taken one step when it happened. He was just about to make his way to the table to grab the flashlight when there was a sudden thud on the front porch, followed by the sound of something scratching at the door.

* * *

Author's note: Oops! Sorry about the little cliff hanger at the end. That might have been a little mean of me, right? And now, poor sick Dean is having to protect his little brother from some unknown entity. Damn John Winchester for leaving his boys alone like that!

Thanks so much for reading, y'all. I hope you all know how much I appreciate that and how much I appreciate those of you who take the time to review. You're all awesome.

On a completely different note….. the SPN Las Vegas convention is in 17 days. Anyone going to it?


	13. Chapter 13

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 13

* * *

Dean wouldn't ever admit it, but he was scared to death. The dark cabin was scary enough on its own, but now there was something prowling out on the porch and he didn't know what to do. Sam was crying loudly and hanging onto Dean as if his life depended on it. Dean tried to move, wanting to go and double check that the door was truly locked, but with Sam glued to his side, he found it nearly impossible.

"Sam, let go of me," Dean said as he tried to pry his brother from his side.

"NOOOO!" Sam tightened his grasp even more as he buried his face in Dean's shirt.

"Sam! I need to check the door." After a struggle, Dean was finally able to pry Sam off of him. "Stay here," he said as he led Sam over to the couch.

Picking the gun up, he placed his finger on the safety, ready to switch it over if he needed to. Once he felt like he was ready, he stepped closer to the door, stopping every other step to listen for any sounds coming from the porch. He was two feet away from the door when he heard it again. The sound of something scratching on the door followed by the sound of something snuffling.

Dean's hands were sweating, but he held tightly onto the gun, just like he'd been taught. Taking the last few steps to the door, he checked the doorknob, making sure that it was indeed locked. He let out a deep breath when he confirmed that it was. Unfortunately, the deep breath he let out set off a furious bout of scratching from whatever was on the porch.

Dean didn't waste any time getting back over to the couch. He could feel his heart pounding painfully, both in his chest and in his head, and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Taking a few more deep breaths, he sat down on the couch and pulled Sam into his side. Feeling Sam's whole body trembling, Dean pulled him up onto his lap, making sure to keep his right arm free in order to hold the gun.

"What is it, Dean? What's out there?" Sam asked as the scratching continued.

"I don't know, but it can't get in here, okay? The doors are locked."

Just as Dean said that, they heard another sound coming from the roof. Sam started crying again and Dean really wanted to join him, but he didn't. He knew that if he showed how scared he really was, Sam would completely freak out. As it was, he was already close to completely freaking out anyway.

"I want Daddy," Sam sobbed.

Dean could tell that his little brother was getting to that point of crying so hard that he would probably throw up and he knew he needed to calm him down. "Dad will be back soon, Sammy," he croaked. "I promise."

They sat there for several minutes, listening to the scratching at the door and the sound of something heavy walking on the cabin roof. Dean's eyes darted from the front door to the window to the back door and then back again, and he listened closely for any new sounds or any change in what they were already hearing. His left arm was wrapped tightly around his brother and his right arm was extended outward, his fingers clutching the gun, ready to shoot first and ask questions later, if he had to.

Dean had no idea how long they sat that way, but it felt like hours. His throat was burning, his head was pounding, and he suddenly started feeling a tightness in his chest. Fighting off the urge to cough, Dean started taking in deep breaths through his nose and then exhaling through his mouth. He was relieved when the tightness in his chest started to dissipate.

Another few minutes went by before Sam suddenly declared that he needed to go to the bathroom. Dean didn't want to leave the living room, so he told Sam he'd have to wait for a little bit. Sam didn't really want to venture into the dark cabin, either, so he didn't argue.

Almost an hour later, both Sam and Dean had dozed off on the small couch. It was way past Sam's normal bedtime and both boys were tired from the excitement of the evening, so they fell asleep relatively easily, much to Dean's surprise.

Because they were both asleep, they didn't hear the sound of the Impala pulling up to the cabin. If they had heard it, Dean wouldn't have found himself in the world of trouble he was suddenly in.

* * *

John Winchester was in a really bad mood. He was exhausted after having driven all day to get to the cabin and he was angry at Dean for not telling him earlier that he was sick. The trip to the store had taken longer than it should because halfway there, the Impala blew a tire. John spent almost twenty minutes in the pouring rain changing out the tire. And once he got to the small country store, he had to wait while the owner looked through their new shipment for Children's Cough and Cold medicine. Luckily, the man found it, because John was growing more and more impatient.

When he pulled up to the cabin, he was surprised to see that the lights were off. He thought he could make out the barest of lights, probably from the fire he'd started in the fireplace before he left, but the rest of the cabin was completely dark.

Grabbing the bag of medicine from the passenger seat, John opened the door and stepped out. The dark clouds covered the half-moon, making it so dark that he couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him. Just as he was a few steps away from the cabin, he heard something rustling in a nearby bush. Grabbing his flashlight out of his pocket, he swept it over to the side, looking for whatever it was that made the sound. When he didn't see anything, he turned back to the cabin, anxious to check on the boys.

He was just about to unlock the door when he heard something scrambling on the roof. Quickly backing up, he moved his flashlight up to the roof, sweeping it back and forth. He didn't see anything at first, but just as he was about to turn back, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning towards the movement, he saw something scurry into the trees. He could just barely make out the shape of what looked like a large cat, but before he could do anything, the creature was gone out of sight.

He watched the trees for several more minutes before finally turning back to the cabin. His heart was pounding and his hands were sweating as he put the key in the lock and turned the knob. He was so caught up in trying to figure out what the creature was that he didn't think to call out to Dean before opening the door. He realized quickly what a rookie mistake that was.

* * *

Dean woke up to find that he was still holding tightly onto his little brother. He wasn't sure what woke him up and he was a little confused at first, but it only took him a few seconds to remember everything. He tried to sit up without disturbing Sam too much and once he was able to move a little more freely, he sat up and listened.

At first, he didn't hear anything, and he wondered if whatever was on the roof and porch had gone away. Eventually, though, he heard whatever it was on the roof scurrying away. Dean closed his eyes and wished with everything he had that his dad would show up and make everything okay.

He was just about to sit back on the couch when he heard something messing with the doorknob. With his heart racing, Dean stood up and readied himself, his index finger switching the safety off on the gun and his right arm bringing the gun up in front of him. He was barely breathing and it felt like everything was happening in slow motion as he watched the doorknob slowly turning and the door edging open.

Everything he had learned from his father flashed through his mind….. _never point a gun at anything you're not willing to shoot and kill….. shoot first, ask questions later… be ready for anything._

He watched as the door opened further and all he saw was the dark outline of a large shape. Without another thought, Dean steadied himself and squeezed the trigger, rocking back slightly at the recoil. He quickly steadied himself again, in case he needed to shoot again, and suddenly, several things seemed to happen all at once. Dean watched as the dark shape suddenly fell to the floor. He heard Sam waking up, crying at the obvious shock of having a gun go off so close to him. At the same time, he heard someone calling his name. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was hearing his dad's voice calling him and at the same time, he watched as the shape on the floor stood up and changed into the familiar form of John Winchester.

"Damn it, Dean! What the hell are you doing?! You could've killed me!"

Dean stood still- not moving, not breathing, at all- his mind still trying to wrap itself around the thought that he had almost killed his dad. He looked from the man standing in front of him to the large divot of wood that was missing from the door frame, just inches away from where his dad had been standing. He had yet to utter a single word and his whole body was trembling.

John seemed to finally realize that Dean was in a state of shock and he moved to his son as fast as he could. He pulled Dean into his chest, not surprised by the trembling he felt. If John were honest with himself, he'd admit that he was trembling just as much.

"Hey. Hey, Dean….it's okay. I'm okay."

Dean suddenly grabbed onto John and buried his face in his shirt, leading John to clutch him even tighter. "Son, it's okay. You're okay."

Dean shuddered and suddenly started sobbing. "I'm sorry, Dad," he cried. "I'm sorry."

John tried to reassure his son that everything was okay, but Dean wasn't ready to hear anything he was saying. Eventually, John realized that Sam was crying, too, and he reached one arm out for his youngest. Sam didn't waste any time in jumping into his father's arm. John felt a wave of guilt course through him at the realization of how scared both of his sons were.

After several minutes of the group hug, John moved over to the couch and sat down, settling one boy on each side of him. They sat there for a long time. Sam eventually fell back to sleep, but John could tell that Dean was still awake. He listened as the boy's breathing evened out a little and the trembling lessened. After giving him a few more minutes, he finally figured it was time to get some answers.

He took a few minutes to settle Sam into the corner of the couch and then turned his body a little so he was facing Dean.

"Hey, Dean…. talk to me, son."

Dean looked up, but still didn't look directly up at his dad. Instead, he seemed to fix his eyes on John's neck. He took several deep breaths and was finally able to gather some strength to talk.

"The lights went out," he said simply, his voice quivering slightly. "Sam was scared, so I was trying to find my flashlight. I thought if I could find it, I could read Sam a story or something. Then, he'd feel better." Dean hesitated and John just let him take time to gather his thoughts. After almost a minute, he continued. "Then we heard something out on the porch. It was scratching on the door and I didn't know what to do, Dad. Sam was really scared."

John knew that Dean must have been scared, too, but he didn't say anything.

"Then we heard something else on the roof. It sounded like something really big. It stayed up there for a long time and Sam and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I heard something trying to get in. I saw the doorknob turning. And I did what you told me to do, Dad. I shot first. But, I didn't know it was you, I swear. _I didn't know."_

"I know you didn't, son. And I'm not mad at you. I shouldn't have yelled at you, but you just scared the hell outta me."

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated for what must have been at least the tenth time.

"I know you are, Dean, but you don't need to be. You did what I trained you to do and I'm proud of you for that. I should have told you it was me coming in the door. It's my fault, not yours."

Dean snuggled into John a little more. He had no idea how to answer his dad, so he just kept quiet. He was starting to feel tired again and his throat was still hurting. John must have noticed how he was swallowing painfully, because he suddenly stood up.

"I think the generator is out of gas, so I'll deal with that in the morning. For now, let's get some medicine in you and get to bed. It's been a long day." He rifled through the pharmacy bag, pulling out the medicine Dean needed. After getting a glass of water from the kitchen, he watched as Dean struggled to get the medications down. Once Dean was finished, John made a loop around the small cabin, making sure that the salt lines were intact and the doors and windows were locked. Once he was done with that, John picked Sam up, grabbed Dean gently by the arm, and headed towards the bedroom. After he saw the state of the first bedroom, he led the boys into the cleaner bedroom.

"Looks like you're gonna have to bunk with your old man tonight, Dean."

He pulled the blankets back on the bed and placed Sam down on the side up against the wall. Dean climbed in next to his brother, thankful to finally be able to lay down. John took off his boots and changed out of his pants into a pair of sweatpants before climbing in next to Dean. He was just about to fall asleep when Dean's croaking voice broke the silence.

"What do you think that was on the porch, Dad? And on the roof."

John wanted to know that himself. "I really don't know, but we'll figure it out tomorrow. For now, the doors and windows are locked and salted, so we're safe. Get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay." Dean answered. "Good night, Dad."

John listened as Dean's breathing evened out again. He wanted desperately to sleep himself, but he couldn't. Instead, he lay there for hours, listening to Dean trying to breathe through a newly stuffed nose and to Sam's gentle snoring.

* * *

Author's note: I hope this chapter doesn't feel a little rushed. I'm leaving in the morning for the SPN Las Vegas convention and I really wanted to get a chapter out first. Let me know if you find any glaring plot or grammatical errors.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you're all doing okay in the wake of the sad Supernatural news. Hang in there and just keep reminding yourselves that this fandom will never end.


	14. Chapter 14

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 14

* * *

Dean was the last one to wake up, thanks to the larger dose of Children's Nyquil his dad had given him sometime during the night. He rolled over in the bed, trying to get his eyes to stay open for longer than two seconds, but they wouldn't. Eventually, after a few eye rubs and whole body stretches, his eyes stayed open and came to focus on the small form of Sam sitting next to him.

"Dean! You're awake," Sam said, excitedly bouncing a little on the bed. "I didn't think you were ever gonna wake up."

"Mornin', Sam," Dean answered with a yawn, completely missing the strange look Sam gave him.

"It's not morning, Dean," Sam explained. "Daddy already made me breakfast _and_ lunch. You shoulda seen it, Dean…. He burned the grilled cheese and the curtain caught on fire! And Daddy said some really bad words!"

Dean couldn't help but groan at the idea of the mood his dad was no doubt in after nearly burning down the cabin. "Where's Dad now?" he asked.

"He's outside, Dean. He told me to stay in here, on the bed with you until he came back."

Dean tried to push away the fear that suddenly found its way back to him. Looking around the room, he noticed that the sun was lower in the sky that he thought it should be. _How long did he sleep?_

With another more pressing need suddenly making itself known, Dean rolled over and stood up, holding one hand on the bed frame to steady himself. He felt dizzy as he stood there and his legs felt like jello. He wondered if that's what it felt like to get drunk and he suddenly had no desire to ever touch a bit of alcohol.

He grabbed some clothes out of his duffel and made his way slowly to the bathroom. Sam followed right behind him, not wanting to be left alone for even a second. Once Dean got to the bathroom, he held up a hand, stopping Sam's progress at the door. "I don't need an audience, Sammy," he said as he stepped in the rest of the way and closed the door.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he pounded on the door. "I'm not a….. uh, a….. what did you say? Dean, it's just me… Sammy."

Dean felt bad for shutting Sam out, but he also wanted a little bit of privacy. Knowing that his little brother was only half a minute away from throwing an epic tantrum, Dean yelled back through the door. "Just give me a minute, okay? I'll be right out."

Sam continued to pound on the door, but the terrified yelling stopped. Now, all Dean could hear was Sam quietly saying his name over and over again. He felt awful for putting Sam through that, but he also just wanted two minutes of privacy. _That wasn't too much to ask, was it?_

Once he was done using the toilet, Dean changed out of his pajamas and put on his clothes. His head was pounding even harder after he bent down to pull off his pajama pants, but he was eventually able to dress himself. Once he was done, he opened the door to find Sammy leaning against it.

"See? I told you I'd be right out, Sammy. You didn't need to worry."

"Daddy told me I had to stay with you, Dean. He said I wasn't s'posed to leave you!"

"You didn't leave me. I was just right there in the bathroom."

"Daddy said, Dean."

"I don't care what Dad said, Sam. I was just going to the bathroom!" Dean's frustration with his brother was already at a dangerous level, but he grew even more frustrated when he heard the sound of his dad clearing his throat right behind him.

"What was that, Dean? You were saying something about not caring about what I said?"

Dean whirled around to face his father, his hand holding onto the bathroom door to keep him steady. "Dad! I didn't mean it! I was just trying to get Sam to shut-up."

John eyed his son closely, taking in the slightly flushed cheeks and the way he was hanging onto the door. He could tell that Dean was still feeling sick, so he decided to go easy on him. "Don't ever let me hear those words come out of your mouth again, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered immediately.

"Okay. Are you hungry? You missed breakfast and lunch."

"A little," Dean admitted.

John turned and walked back down the short hall, leaving Dean and Sam to follow. Dean glared at Sam, angry that he had almost gotten into trouble. He couldn't' stay mad long, though, because Sam was looking up at him with his big eyes, silently asking him not to be mad.

"C'mon, Sammy," he said, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him towards the kitchen.

* * *

Dean didn't eat very much of the soup and sandwich his dad made for him. He could barely breathe through his nose and his throat was more painful than it had been the day before. Truth be told, he really just wanted to go back to sleep, but his dad had other plans.

"Listen up, boys. I fixed the generator, so the lights will stay on. The windows and doors are all salted and locked. And there's enough wood in the bin to keep the fire going for several days. Dean, do you remember what I told you about stoking and banking the fire?"

Dean looked up at his dad, confusion evident on his face. He wanted desperately to believe that he was misunderstanding what his dad's words were leading up to. _Was he really going to leave again? And leave them all alone? What if that thing came back?_

"Dean! Focus, son. I'm talking to you!"

Dean shook his head slightly, trying to clear it and focus on what his dad was saying. At the same time, he was trying to control his breathing. The last thing he wanted to do was start hyperventilating in front of the man. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, too. After a few seconds, he was finally able to answer the man. "Sorry, dad," he croaked.

John's eyes narrowed as he looked his son over. This wasn't the time for Dean to be sick. There was something going on in the woods around the cabin and he needed to be able to focus on the hunt, not on a sick kid. Not for the first time, he wished he'd just let the boys stay with Bobby. Hunting would be so much easier then.

"Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can. You know what to do, Dean."

"Dad, wait!" Dean yelled hoarsely. "Don't go. Please!"

"I have to go, Dean. I need to figure out what those creatures are, so I need to track them before the trail is lost."

"But what if it comes back?" Dean asked frantically. "What do I do?!"

"It can't get in, Dean."

"But what if it does?!"

"Then you shoot it! Like I trained you to do." John held out the gun Dean had nearly killed him with the night before. "Here, take it."

"I don't want it," Dean said, standing up from his chair and backing away from the gun.

"Dean, take the gun! You're wasting daylight here."

Dean was shaking his head 'no' and continued to back up until he felt the kitchen counter behind him. He didn't ever want to touch a gun again, especially that particular one.

"Damn it, Dean! I don't have time for this!"

Sam, who had been watching everything from the small table, stood up and ran over to his brother, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. Dean reached down and pulled Sam closer to him. "Please, Dad. Please, don't go. Sammy needs you here."

For a single second, John almost gave in to the desperate pleading. He almost made the decision to pack the boys into the Impala and drive away as fast as he could, forgetting about whatever was out there. He almost made up his mind to let some other hunter take over this hunt.

But, he didn't. John Winchester never walked away from a hunt. He couldn't. In his mind, every single hunt he went on represented the only hunt that really mattered…. the hunt for whatever it was that killed his Mary. Giving up on a hunt was like giving up on her and he couldn't bring himself to do that.

 _And Dean knew that. He knew how important each hunt was. He knew it was their job to hunt the evil that was out there. He knew._

After a staring match between father and son, John had had enough. He knew that Dean was scared, especially after the near miss with the gun the night before, but he couldn't let the boy give in to that fear. Dean had to learn to push fear aside and do what was expected of him. He had to learn to follow orders without hesitation. And it was John's duty as his father to teach him.

"Son, I'm not telling you again to take the gun," John said coldly. He saw Dean flinch at the words, but the boy still made no move to step forward and take it. "If I have to come over there, you won't like the consequences, Dean."

Dean knew he needed to do what his father was telling him to do, but he couldn't move. It was like he was frozen in place and his own body was refusing to obey him. He couldn't make himself step forward and take the gun from his dad. His legs wouldn't move no matter how hard his brain tried to make them. So, he just stood there, clutching his brother to his side, looking up at his father with desperate, pleading eyes. _Why couldn't his dad see how scared he was? How scared Sammy was?_

He knew his father was furious. He could tell by the look in the man's eyes and by the way he was standing, stiff and unyielding as he stared down his son. Dean knew how important it was to his dad to be obeyed. He knew how much his dad hated insubordination and disobedience. And he'd learned through the years that outright defiance was the one thing John Winchester absolutely did not abide.

The next few seconds seemed to unfold at an alarmingly slow rate in Dean's mind. He helplessly watched as John crossed the small room in three big steps, coming to a stop directly in front of him. He watched as Sam was pulled away from him harshly and sent over to the couch with a hard smack to his backside. He watched as his father then turned back to him and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him over to a kitchen chair. He watched as the man lifted his own foot up onto the seat of the chair, and then felt himself being picked up and upended over the man's knee. It was like it was all happening to someone else at first- like he was an outsider watching the events unfold in front of him- but then he felt the sharp and painful sting of his father's hand meeting his backside, bringing him forcefully back to reality. Having been in a similar situation before, Dean wasn't surprised by how much the spanking hurt. But, he _was_ surprised by the sense of betrayal he was feeling and the pain he felt as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

* * *

John knew he was being too hard on his son. He knew that the spanking he'd just delivered had been the hardest spanking Dean had ever received. And he hated that he had to do it, but he didn't regret it. Being a hunter was a difficult job. It required persistence and patience, hard work and endurance. It required intuition and instinct, responsiveness and awareness. It required trust and confidence. But, most of all, it required obedience and compliance. Whether that obedience was directed toward a superior hunter or to the unwritten laws of hunting didn't really matter. What mattered was that a hunter obeyed and obeyed without hesitation.

Dean needed to learn that. John suspected that the boy was going to grow up to be a great hunter and he was extremely proud of the progress his son was making in his training. Dean was already on his way to becoming a proficient marksmen and tracker. He was quick to soak in whatever knowledge of the lore John sent his way and could easily recite the methods of killing most monsters. He was both intuitive and instinctual and John suspected that he was just a natural born hunter. It was in his blood.

But Dean needed to learn the fine art and necessity of obedience. For the most part, he was usually very obedient. Of course, John had already had his fair share of having to discipline his oldest son for _normal_ childhood disobedience like lying and talking back. On the whole, Dean was usually very respectful, but occasionally John had to call him out for being disrespectful. He wasn't stupid, though. He was completely aware that most of the times he'd had to discipline his son had something to do with Dean's unhealthy desire to keep his little brother out of trouble, at all costs. John knew that Sam got up to his own fair share of mischievousness and that Dean would do anything to shift the blame of whatever misdeed Sam was responsible for onto himself. Dean hated to see his brother punished, even if that punishment was something as simple as a five minute time-out.

But, Dean's behavior in the kitchen was completely unacceptable. John had given him a direct order and Dean had ignored him. In fact, he had given his son several direct orders and the boy had ignored every single one of them. John knew that on top of being sick, Dean was scared, but it didn't matter. The boy had to learn to not let his fear overwhelm him. He had to learn that fear was his enemy. That fear hindered him from being an effective hunter. That fear constrained him in ways he couldn't afford.

Dean had to learn to overcome his fear, or at the very least control it. He had to learn to act first and ask questions later. On a hunt, there wasn't time to analyze every single piece of information before acting. Analyzing was done in the preparatory phase of a hunt, not in the acting phase.

More than any of that, though, Dean needed to learn to do what he was told, without hesitation or arguing. He had to accept that John was in charge and that he knew best as to how things had to happen. He had to learn immediate obedience to anything John said, to any order that left John's mouth. There was no time for independent thinking, just as there was no time to be scared.

John hoped that by lighting a roaring fire in the kid's backside, the lesson would be driven home appropriately.

* * *

After his dad was done lighting his backside on fire, Dean felt the man lift him and place him back on his feet. Dean swayed for several seconds as one hand moved to rub his eyes and the other moved to rub the sting out of his bottom. He felt his dad's hand gripping his shoulder firmly in an attempt to steady him and despite his anger at the man for spanking him, he felt himself leaning into him slightly.

"Are you ready to do as you were told now?" John asked, squeezing Dean's shoulder.

"Yes, sir," he answered as he felt a new wave of tears flood his eyes at the thought of having to take the gun from his dad. The events of last night had truly shaken his confidence and he was terrified. He had almost killed his dad, so the last thing he wanted was to hold that gun in his hand and be responsible for making such horrible decisions like 'shoot first, ask questions later' ever again. He felt like no one ever won in that situation.

John reached behind his back and pulled the gun back out, holding it out to his son. "Take it," he said simply. He noticed how much Dean's hands were trembling as he reached for the gun. Just as he was about to take the gun, though, Dean hesitated and pulled his hand back. "Dean," John growled. "Do we need to continue where we left off?"

"N-No, sir," Dean answered. He wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and then reached out and grabbed the gun from his dad.

"Take some deep breaths, son," John instructed. "Calm yourself down."

Dean took several deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down. He could feel some of his apprehension leave him, but not all of it, and he tried his best to hide it from his father.

"Better?" John asked as he watched Dean closely.

"I-I think s-so." After a pause, Dean continued. "I'm sorry, sir. For, uh….. um, for being scared."

"You don't have to apologize for being scared, Dean. Fear is a normal thing and can be put to good use if you don't let it control you."

Dean suddenly found himself registering more of his surroundings than just his dad and the gun. For the first time, he could hear Sam crying and he suddenly remembered the hard smack his dad had delivered to his little brother's backside. Without hesitating, Dean slipped the gun into the back of his jeans and headed over to the couch, anxious to calm his brother down.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said as he sat next to his crying brother. The next thing he knew Sam was climbing up onto his lap, burrowing his face into his chest and wrapping his arm's tightly around Dean's neck. John watched on from where he was standing, feeling a little guilty at the way he had treated his youngest son. Sam hadn't done anything wrong. He just happened to be in the way and John just wanted him moved, so he could deal with Dean.

After a few minutes of Dean holding Sam and whispering in his ear, Sam pulled away and looked over at John. John hated the look of fear and betrayal that was written all over the little face and he had no idea how to make it better. He stepped over to the couch, not missing the way Dean held onto Sam a little tighter and turned so his own body was sheltering Sam away from John.

Without a word, John bent down and picked Sam up. Sam struggled for a few seconds, but then gave up and allowed John to hold him. His body was completely stiff, though, making it a little awkward for his dad.

"Hey, Sammy…. You okay?" John asked his youngest.

Sam just looked at him with his teary eyes. John hadn't ever told anyone, but Sam's eyes were just like John's mother's eyes and looking into them sometimes caused his heart to ache.

John knew he owed his youngest an apology, but he couldn't bring himself to deliver it. Instead, he just tried to hold onto the boy for a few minutes. Eventually, he put Sam back down on the couch next to Dean, watching as the two nearly melded together. He hated having to leave them again, especially after the last fifteen minutes of the day, but he needed to get going. Precious time was slipping away from him and he could feel the pressure to finish the hunt increasing exponentially with each passing second.

After another minute of watching his sons, John finally made his move. "Dean, when I leave, I want you to lock the door behind me and check the salt lines. Make sure they're all still intact. There's the makings for sandwiches in the refrigerator or you can make some mac and cheese. And you're due for another dose of your medication in about an hour, okay? Make sure you take it."

Dean nodded his head, hoping that was enough of an answer for his dad. He was surprised when the man didn't demand a verbal answer.

"Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise. Sammy? Listen to Dean. He's in charge. Dean, watch out for Sammy."

Without another word, John turned and walked to the front door. Sam and Dean watched as he stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him, never once looking back for one last glance at his boys.

* * *

Author's note: Whew! That was a tough one. I really hope I didn't make you all hate John Winchester even more than you already do. If I did, I apologize. ;)

The Supernatural Las Vegas convention was so much fun, just so you all know. Seeing Jensen Ackles singing live was definitely a high point. If you ever get the chance to attend one, I'd suggest doing it!

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You guys are all amazing and I truly appreciate it. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter and I want to remind you that I at least didn't leave you all hanging off of a cliff with this one.


	15. Chapter 15

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 15

* * *

John didn't return to the small cabin until the next night. By that time, Dean was physically and emotionally exhausted, still feverish, and had very little energy left in his small body. Sam seemed to understand that his brother was really sick and had done his best to not be too demanding. And he did everything he could to take care of his big brother.

Sam walked with Dean through the small cabin, checking the salt lines at the windows and doors. He covered Dean with a worn blanket when he fell asleep on the old couch. He even made lunch for himself when Dean fell asleep and slept for hours.

Dean was surprised when he woke up to find Sam sitting at the end of the small couch, munching on a very messy peanut butter and jelly sandwich while he played with some of his toy cars. The kid had globs of jelly dripping down his chin and some resting on the front of his shirt. Dean wondered just how long he had been asleep.

Looking out the window, he thought it looked like it was probably late afternoon. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but he knew it had been at least a few hours. Unfortunately, he still felt exhausted. And sick.

But, looking at Sammy made him laugh. "Sam, what are you doing?" he asked with a laugh.

"Nothin'," Sam answered with his mouth full. Dean noticed several clumps of bread falling out of his mouth. "I'm just playin'."

"Did you make your own sandwich?" he asked.

"Yeah, and I made one for you, too, Dean. Do you want it?"

Dean still wasn't very hungry, but he knew that Sam really wanted him to eat the sandwich he'd made. Figuring that he could at least take a few bites, he told Sam that he did indeed want the sandwich. Seconds later, he was pulling himself up into a sitting position and settling into the corner of the couch. Sam brought the sandwich to him and Dean couldn't help but laugh again. "That thing's huge, Sam. Did you use up all the peanut butter?"

"You like peanut butter!" Sam said. "So I gave you a lot!"

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean took a small bite out of the sandwich, nearly choking on it when he tried to swallow it through his swollen throat.

"Do you like it?" Sammy asked, watching closely as Dean took another bite.

"It's great, Sammy. Thanks."

"Do you wanna play a game, Dean? Or we could go outside and play."

Dean was surprised that Sam had already forgotten about the creatures that had been lurking outside. "We can't go outside, remember? Dad wants us to stay inside."

"But it's boring inside," Sam whined.

"We have to stay inside, okay? But maybe we can find something fun to do in here."

"There's nothin' fun to do in here. There's not even a TV, Dean."

"We don't need a TV to have fun. I've got lots of ideas."

"Really? Like what?"

"How about I Spy?" Dean asked.

"We always play that," Sam moaned. "And there's nothin' around here to spy anyway."

"Okay, how about Hide and Seek?"

"There aren't any good places to hide, Dean."

"Well, what if we play Lava Monster? Remember that game?"

"Yeah! That was fun!" Sam jumped up and down in excitement, sending the globs of jelly on his shirt cascading to the floor. Dean was surprised when his face fell, though. "But, we can't play that, Dean. Remember what happened last time we played Lava Monster? Dad said he'd smack us harder than ever if he ever caught us playing it again!"

Dean shuddered at the memory of the spankings their dad had given them that day. It had been mostly Sam's fault, because Dean had tried to get his little brother to calm down a little bit while they were playing. Instead, the kid had just jumped from couch to sofa even faster as he tried to avoid the lava monster. Eventually, one of his jumps caused him to come crashing down on a table, which knocked over a burning candle. Dean could remember rushing to try to put out the flames that had started the second the toppled candle landed on the living room drapes. But, he wasn't fast enough and within seconds the flames had moved up the oily walls of the apartment. Dean remembered rushing to get Sam out of the apartment before the whole place went up in flames. Luckily, their nearest neighbor, an older woman who was keeping an eye on them while John was at work, happened to be unlocking the door to her apartment when Dean opened their door. He immediately started yelling at her to call the fire department, which she did.

The fire department was quick to respond, so their apartment was the only one that sustained any real damage. Mrs. Nolan kept the boys at her side while she tried to call their father and John showed up almost six hours later, utterly relieved to see both of his boys safe and sound. Mere minutes later, though, he was exploding in anger when he found out what had caused the fire.

Dean knew they weren't supposed to light the candles unless the electricity was out, but he had thought the flickering candle light would add some excitement to the Lava Monster game. He didn't think about the fact that they could start a fire. He didn't think about how dangerous it was to have an open flame so close to furniture and drapes.

John didn't waste any time at all in making sure his boys wouldn't ever do something so stupid again. Dean, of course, got the worst of it, since he was the oldest and was the one in charge. John lectured him for what seemed like hours and hours before taking him over his knee for a sound spanking. Sam was next and Dean cried even more as he listened to his little brother being punished. All in all, it was an awful day and John had made it perfectly clear that they were never to play Lava Monster again.

Of course, Dean knew now that his dad's anger had been more about the candles than the actual game itself, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to tempt fate.

"Okay, no Lava Monster, either. I can't really think of anything else to do, Sam," he finally admitted.

Sam plopped back down on the couch in frustration. Dean nearly laughed out loud at the sight of the kid sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, hair falling into his eyes, and mouth turned downward into an impressive pout. He felt bad for Sam, though, knowing how bored he really was.

"Hey, I know," Dean finally said. "How about we play the story game? Remember that one, Sammy? I start the story with a sentence and then you add another sentence? And we just keep on going, remember?" He was relieved to see Sam's face light up with that idea.

"Yeah! Can I start it, Dean? Please?"

"Sure, Sammy."

He watched as Sam thought for several long minutes, his face scrunched up and his forehead furrowed. Eventually, Sam looked up at his brother in defeat.

"I can't think of anything, Dean."

"It's okay, Sam. How about if I start?" Sam didn't look completely happy with that, but he didn't argue. Instead, he sat back against the couch and pulled his knees to his chest. Dean thought for a few seconds before starting his story. "Once upon a time, there were two sisters named Pam and Jean….."

Sam giggled at the start of the story, but then his face turned serious as he thought about what came next. "They lived in a big mansion with their mommy and daddy," he finally said.

Dean paused again, not missing the wistfulness in his brother's voice. "Yes, they lived in a big mansion with their mom and dad. On the pinkest beach you could ever imagine."

"A pink beach? How can a beach be pink, Dean?"

"A beach can be any color you want it to be when you're telling a story, Sammy." Dean's voice cracked halfway through his sentence and by the end he was coughing harshly.

Sam waited for him to stop coughing before he took his turn with the story. "The big mansion had a hundred bedrooms, two hundred bathrooms, and a giant swimming pool right in the middle."

"Well, they had to have a giant swimming pool for their pet whale, right?" Dean added with a laugh.

"Yeah," Sam yelled as he jumped off the couch in excitement. "They had a pet whale named Norton! And Norton was afraid of water."

"Norton the whale was afraid of water?"

"Yeah, he didn't know how to swim and he needed help. He wasn't brave like you, Dean."

"So, how did Pam and Jean help Norton?"

Dean laughed at the serious look on Sam's face as he tried to figure out how to help Norton.

"Maybe they just took him out of the water?" Sam said uncertainly.

"But Norton's a whale, Sam. He has to have water to live, remember?"

"But I don't know how to save him, Dean," Sam said.

Dean could hear the sadness in his little brother's voice and knew he needed to steer the story in a happier direction. "Good thing big sister Jean had an idea, right? She knew that Norton was afraid of the water and couldn't swim, so she made big, huge fin floaties to put on him. Like the ones Uncle Bobby gave you last year, remember?"

Sam smiled at the memory. "Those were so cool," he said excitedly. "Remember how I swam all the way across the pool with those, Dean?"

Dean started coughing before he could answer. After almost a full minute of coughing, he finally stopped. "Yeah, Sammy, you almost beat me."

Sam frowned at that. "I never beat you in anything, Dean."

"Sure you do. Remember when we had a race to see who could eat the crackers the fastest? You beat me good at that. And remember when Dad timed us on that obstacle course he made at Uncle Bobby's? You beat me on that, too."

"Only because you fell off the log and had to start over again."

"It doesn't matter, Sam. You still beat me."

Sam smiled at Dean's words. "You were so mad about that, remember? Because Dad said whoever lost had to do the other person's chores for two weeks."

"That sucked," Dean laughed just before going into another coughing fit.

"Is it time for your medicine, Dean? I can get it for you."

"Thanks, Sam. That would be great," he answered, in between coughs. Once he stopped coughing, he settled back into the arm of the couch as Sam went into the kitchen and grabbed his medicine. Once he had taken it, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Dean, you can't go to sleep. We're not done with our story yet."

Dean opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "C'mon, Sammy. I just need to rest for a little while, okay? We'll finish the story later."

"But, what am I gonna do while you're sleeping? It's boring here."

"Play with your cars, okay? Just for a while. When I wake up, I'll do whatever you want." Dean could feel sleep pulling at him and he wondered if maybe he'd taken too much of the medication. He knew Sam was upset, but he just needed to sleep for a short time. When Sam didn't argue with him, he allowed his eyes to close again and just seconds later he was asleep.

* * *

Dean woke up to a feeling of complete confusion. His eyes seemed to be glued shut, so as he tried to pry them open, he tried to remember what was going on. _Where was he? Where was Sam and Dad? What time was it?_

It took almost thirty seconds before his eyes finally opened and stayed open. In that time, he remembered that they were in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and that their dad was off hunting some strange creature. He felt relieved to know what was going on, but seconds later, that relief turned to terror when he realized that his brother wasn't in the room.

Pulling himself to his feet, he looked around frantically as he called out for Sam. "Sammy! Sam! Where are you?!"

When he didn't get a response, he felt like he was going to throw up. He ran through the hallway, checking both bedrooms and the bathroom for his brother, but Sam was nowhere to be found. With a pit in his stomach and a sinking heart, he ran back out to the living room and checked the door. The pit in his stomach grew massive when he realized that the salt lines had been disturbed and the door was no longer locked.

Dean didn't think he'd ever felt such fear before and he didn't know what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was go outside, but he knew he didn't have a choice. His brother was out there. Along with whatever it was that had been on the porch and the roof before. Without another thought, he grabbed the gun that had been sitting on the coffee table and stepped over to the door. He didn't even realize that he didn't have shoes on until he had already stepped out onto the porch. And by that time, he was too committed to his decision to go after Sam to even consider going back in for his shoes.

Once he was on the porch, he quickly realized that it was almost nighttime. He thought his dad called it dusk, but he wasn't really sure what that meant. Whatever it was called, the sun was already set and the area around the house was filled with shadows. He looked around the small yard and towards the trees that bordered the cabin, but he didn't see any sign of Sam.

What he did see, though, was the Impala. He was surprised to see it parked off to the side of the cabin and wondered if that meant his dad was somewhere close by. He knew the man would be furious at both of them for leaving the cabin, but Dean didn't care. _He had to find Sammy._

Dean surveyed the shadows as much as he could and was relieved when he didn't see anything moving. Turning his eyes back to the Impala, he started to make his way there. He had only taken three steps, though, when he saw something move inside the car. He froze instantly in his tracks and focused his eyes on the back seat of the car where he thought he saw the movement. The car was particularly shadowed thanks to a large tree next to it, but Dean could still see something moving around.

Holding the gun out in front of him and willing his hands to stop shaking, Dean stepped closer to the car. He had taken another five or six steps and was halfway there when he heard a noise coming from behind him. Wishing that he'd grabbed a flashlight before leaving the cabin, he turned and inspected the porch and the other side of the yard. When he didn't see anything or hear anything else, he turned back to the car and took a few more steps. He was only about thirty feet away from the Impala when several things happened at once.

The motion in the backseat of the Impala drew his attention again and he was relieved to see the shadowed face of his brother looking at him. It took him a few seconds to realize that Sam had a panicked look on his face. It also took him a few seconds to realize that something was moving behind him, too. Without thinking, Dean turned back around, bringing the gun up in front of him in one fluid motion. At the same time, he was taking steps backwards, trying to make his way to the car without falling down. He was just two steps away from the car when he heard a loud growl and saw the shadow hurdling towards him.

Everything seemed to slow down and Dean was surprised to hear the crack of a gun going off. He was even more surprised to find that he was the one that actually shot the gun. Without taking the time to see if he had actually shot whatever it was that was coming at him, he took the last two steps to the car, pulled the door open, and threw himself into the back seat. As soon as the door was shut behind him, he locked it and peered out of the window.

"What was that?!" Sam cried as he grabbed onto the back of his brother's shirt.

Dean didn't answer right away. Instead, he checked all the doors to make sure they were locked and then turned back to look out the window again. He could see the shape of something laying in the shadow of the cabin's porch and he was relieved to see that it wasn't moving. He couldn't tell if it was breathing, though, no matter how hard he looked.

He looked around the cabin, searching for any other signs of movement, but he didn't see anything. Finally, he turned back to his brother. "Are you okay?" he asked Sam as he looked him over closely.

Sam was fully crying by that time and could barely answer his brother. Eventually, he was able to say that he was okay.

"What are you doing out here, Sam?" Dean finally asked.

Sam ducked his head before burying his face in Dean's shirt. "I-I wanted m-my coloring b-book and I remembered that I left it in here," he stuttered.

"Sammy, you weren't supposed to leave the cabin! You knew that!"

"I know," Sam cried. "I w-was b-bored, Dean. And you were sleeping."

Dean was still too freaked out to really deal with what Sam was saying, so he turned his attention back to the cabin and the area around it. He wondered if they should try to get back to the house, since they didn't have any salt lines to protect them, but then he realized what a crazy idea it would be to leave. At least they could lock themselves in inside the Impala.

Dean settled his back against the seat, but kept his head turned to look out the window. Sam was talking a mile a minute and the only thing Dean could make out was the repeated question of "what was that thing?" And he had no idea what it was. He really hadn't been able to get a good look at it.

He was making another sweep of the area with his eyes and praying at the same time that his dad would show up soon, when he saw it. In the deepest shadow by the far corner of the cabin, Dean saw an ink black shape start to coalesce. The clouds shifted just a little, allowing the moonlight to emerge slightly, and Dean was able to make out the shape of a large animal of some sort. He could feel the hair on his arms and neck stick up when the creature stopped next to the other creature that he'd shot, sniffed around it a few times, and then lifted his head to look directly at the car.

Dean didn't know how he knew, because it was still so dark, but he could tell that the creature was looking right at him. And it was really angry.

* * *

Author's note: I feel like maybe I should go hide somewhere after leaving you all with another cliffhanger. I'm just envisioning a mob of people coming for me with pitchforks and axes, lol.

Anyway, I don't mean to be cruel, but it's almost five in the morning and I need to go to bed. I really hope you enjoy this chapter and I'd really, really love to hear your thoughts on it.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You all are amazing.


	16. Chapter 16

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 16

* * *

John really had no idea what he was hunting and that scared him. He had caught a few glimpses of the creature and it wasn't anything he'd ever seen before. He even took the time to discuss what he knew with Bobby and Jim, but neither of them had any insight, either. He had been able to track it for a while, but he kept losing the trail, making him think that maybe the creature was able to climb trees and actually jump from tree to tree.

After almost a full day and night of tracking, he was exhausted and eager to get back to the cabin to check on his boys. He felt bad about leaving them behind, especially since Dean was sick, but he really didn't feel like he had a choice. Whatever the creature was, it needed to be hunted and killed.

He was just about ready to turn around and head back to his sons when he heard it. The unusually still and quiet night was suddenly disrupted by the sound of a loud gunshot coming from the direction of the cabin. For a few seconds, John was so surprised by the sound that he didn't move, or even breathe, at all. Once the initial shock wore off, though, his breathing returned in hurried gasps and his heart pounded painfully in his chest.

He hadn't seen any signs of any other hunters in the area and there weren't any other cabins within ten miles of where they were. That only meant one thing- Dean had fired his gun at something.

John took off running as fast as he could, all other thought pushed aside for the moment. His one and only objective was to get back to Sam and Dean, to protect them from whatever evil thing claimed these particular woods as its home.

As he ran, he once again cursed himself for being stupid enough to leave his boys alone. Sam and Dean were the most important things in the world to him, yet he pushed them aside time and time again. He was ashamed to admit that his obsession to kill every supernatural creature that walked the earth trumped his desire to protect his own blood.

* * *

Dean didn't know what to do. The only thing he knew he _had_ to do was protect Sammy, but he didn't know how to do that. They were trapped inside the Impala while a creature he had never seen before paced around them.

Dean kept his eyes on the creature as long as he could and he was really starting to get freaked out. The creature was one of the scariest things he had ever seen and it acted strangely. As it paced around and around the car, it stopped every time it passed by the window where Dean was sitting. He would watch as the thing came to a complete stop, before turning and staring directly at him. He also noticed that with every complete circle around the car, it moved closer and closer, until finally Dean was sure he could reach out and touch it if he rolled his window down.

Eventually, the creature stopped pacing and sat directly outside Dean's window, staring at him. By this time, Sam was completely freaked out and was hugging Dean tightly, his little face buried in Dean's side. Dean wanted to cry right along with Sam, but he knew he couldn't give in to the fear he was feeling.

Fear made you freeze. Fear made you miss things. It weakened and crippled you. And it sabotaged you. These were things that his dad had drilled into his head during training, things that Dean tried hard to remember. Uncle Bobby said that fear could be a good thing. That it could sharpen your mind as long as you didn't let it control you. John agreed with that to a degree, but he was much more likely to see fear as detrimental and dangerous.

But Dean was pretty sure that even his dad would be a little scared by the creature that was sitting outside of the car. _It was just so freaky._

It was beginning to really unnerve him how the creature was just sitting there, staring right at him, hardly moving at all. He could see its chest moving a little with each breath it took and he could make out the slight ruffling of its fur with every small gust of wind. But that was it. Other than that, the creature was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes never blinking or leaving Dean's face.

Dean held onto Sam tightly and took several deep breaths. He knew he still had a few bullets left in his gun, but he was pretty sure his hands were shaking too much to actually hit a target. _He would do his best, though._

He had no idea how much time had passed, but he could tell that the night was growing darker. He could see a little bit of moonlight showing through the dark clouds that littered the sky, but nothing more than that and he couldn't help but think how everything was so much scarier at night.

Sam repositioned himself against Dean's side and he could feel the trembling that wracked the small body. Dean's head was throbbing and he felt like he might throw up. _And wouldn't that be just great?! Throwing up in the Impala was definitely not a good idea._ Dean repositioned himself, too, trying to find a position that was more comfortable with the way Sam was leaning against him.

He had just found a semi-comfortable position when he saw the creature suddenly stand up out of the corner of his eye. Dean's eyes immediately jerked to the window and he was surprised to see the creature's snout pressed up against it. Before he could react in any way, the thing bared its teeth at him and then started howling loudly.

Dean and Sam both let out a terrified scream. The howling was loud and chilling in its intensity, and the creature didn't seem like it was likely to stop any time soon. With the howling of the creature, the pounding of his head, and the terrified crying of his little brother, Dean suddenly found himself leaning over and emptying the meager contents of his stomach all over the floorboard of the Impala.

Once he was done, he took several deep breaths and turned his attention back to the creature, who was still wildly howling.

"It's okay, Sammy. It can't get in here, okay? We're safe inside the Impala."

Just as Dean finished that sentence, the creature suddenly stopped howling, stood up on its hind legs, and started kicking out at the window. Dean quickly shoved Sam across the seat and up against the other door before bringing the gun up to point at the creature. He wasn't sure how long the glass would last, but he was prepared to do whatever he had to do to watch out for Sammy. _Whatever he had to do…_

* * *

John figured he was about a quarter of a mile away from the cabin when he heard the howling. He could feel the goosebumps erupting all over his skin at the eerie sound, but he didn't let that stop him. Kicking it into an even higher gear, he pushed himself to run faster than he'd ever ran before, the whole time praying that his boys were locked up safe and sound inside the cabin.

What he saw when he finally made it into the cabin clearing shocked him immensely.

Fortunately, the clouds had moved just enough to let a little of the moonlight shine through and John immediately found the dark shape of something on the ground just a few feet away from the cabin. Once he registered that he was seeing the body of one of the creatures, his eyes shot over to the Impala where the other creature was alternating between staring into the back seat of the car and throwing itself against the window.

Another immense shock shot through him at the sight of Dean's pale face looking through the window. _What in the hell was the boy doing outside of the cabin?!_ John felt his knees weaken even more when he saw that Dean wasn't alone. He could barely make out the shape of Sam's small body practically melding into Dean's.

His complete shock at the sight before he left him standing stock still, chest heaving with painful breaths, and heart pounding so hard that it felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. He had no idea how long he stood there- maybe seconds, maybe minutes- but it wasn't until he heard the sound of glass shattering that he came to his senses.

In what seemed like both slow motion and fast forward at the same time, John watched as the creature started hurtling itself through the now open window of the car. He fluidly pulled his gun up as he ran forward, hesitating to pull the trigger only because he needed to get a better sense of whether his boys were out of the line of fire. When he was finally able to determine that they were, he pulled the trigger, surprised at the intensity and loudness of the shot echoing in the night.

He had been a mere thirty feet away from the creature when he fired, hitting it right below its right shoulder. He was surprised when the creature fell to the ground, unmoving and obviously dead. _One shot to the shoulder had killed the thing?_

It wasn't until he was right upon the thing that he realized that another bullet had taken out most of the top of its head, obviously killing it instantly. His mind scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing, since he knew that he had only fired one round. And then his mind scrambled to come to terms with the fact that it was his eleven year old son that had fired the killing shot.

* * *

Dean's head was spinning and he felt like he might throw up again, but he didn't take his eyes off of the window. He lost count of how many times the creature had hit the window and also of how many times he told Sam that everything was going to be okay. It was almost like a pattern, actually- the creature's body slamming against the window, followed directly by his weak "It'll be okay, Sammy," followed by the creature's body slamming against the window. Over and over again until he saw the first crack form on the window. Suddenly, Dean couldn't muster up the strength or courage to lie to his little brother anymore. Suddenly, he knew that it was only a matter of a few seconds before the creature was going to break through the glass and join them in the back seat of the Impala. Only a few seconds before he would have to do anything and everything he could to protect Sam.

Dean thought he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye and he prayed with everything he had that it was his dad. A small part of him figured that it was probably another creature, though, since the infamous Dean Winchester luck never really harbored anything good.

Before he could figure out what else was out there, though, the glass suddenly shattered and the body of the creature was crashing through the window. Dean was already holding the gun up and without a second of hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The sound was so loud and he suddenly found that his ears were ringing almost painfully. He could hear Sam's muffled crying and he could also hear something moving around outside the car. _Did he miss the shot? Was the creature still out there?_

Besides the fact that his head was pounding so hard that he thought it might explode, his chest was also hurting. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was probably because Sam was holding onto him so fiercely from behind, his arms squeezing like a vise, making it hard for Dean to breathe.

Eventually, Dean was able to pry Sam's arms off of him and he quickly turned to look at his brother. When he was confident that Sam was okay, Dean moved toward the window, gun held up in front of him just in case the creature tried to jump back through the window. He had just barely made it halfway across the seat when his dad's face suddenly appeared in the window.

"Dean! Sam! Are you okay?" the man asked as he opened the door and scrambled into the seat, completely disregarding the shattered glass that covered the car.

"Dad!" Dean jumped forward, throwing himself into the man's chest without a second thought. He couldn't stop the tears that were suddenly cascading down his face or the tremors that were coursing through his body, but he really didn't care. He was pretty sure that he had hadn't ever been so scared in his life.

Sam threw himself into John's arms, too, and Dean moved over to make way for his brother. With John holding both of them tightly, the three of them sat like that for a long time. Eventually, John pushed both boys away, eager to look them over and make sure they were okay. Both boys had tear-stained faces and Dean's face was a sickly combination of deathly pale and fever-flushed. Both boys were trembling, which John barely noticed due to his own trembling.

"Hey, it's okay," he finally had the strength to say. "It's over."

Neither boy said anything. They both just sat there, clinging on to each other, while each keeping at least one hand on their father. John could tell that Dean was trying to pull himself together, but he was failing miserably.

"Hey," he tried again. "It's all over, okay? What do you say we get back inside where it's at least a little warmer?"

When neither boy moved, John decided he needed to take the matter in hand. Moving himself backwards out of the car, he gave the boys a command. "Stay right there. Don't move."

Both Sam and Dean had a look of panic on their faces, but John didn't hesitate. Stepping out of the car, he quickly closed the door and moved around to the other side. He pulled on the handle of the back door, but had to wait for Dean to unlock it before he could open it. Once it was open, he motioned for Sam to get out. Sam scooted over to the door, but he couldn't seem to make himself climb out. John leaned down and picked Sam up, quickly settling him against his hip.

Next, he motioned to Dean. Dean wished that his dad would carry him, too, but he didn't want to look weak in front of the man. He scooted over and tried to stand up, but his legs were too shaky. John, who had reached his hand out for Dean to take, suddenly grabbed him by the arm, holding him up so he wouldn't fall. With one fluid motion, he leaned down, picked Dean up, and settled him against his other hip.

"It's okay, Dean. I've got you."

Dean didn't fight it. Instead, he just buried his face into his father's shoulder and let his body sag against the man. He didn't have the energy left for anything at all.

* * *

Almost an hour later, Dean and Sam were settled on the bed they had been sharing with their dad. John decided they could forego their baths for one night and after trying to get them to eat something, he insisted that they go to bed.

It didn't take long for Sam to fall asleep, but he kept waking up every few minutes, looking around wildly and only settling back down when his eyes found Dean laying in the bed next to him. Eventually, he fell into a much more peaceful slumber.

Dean, on the other hand, couldn't settle his mind long enough to fall asleep. He felt worse than he'd ever felt before, with his pounding headache, sore throat, stuffy nose, and queasy stomach. And every time he closed his eyes, the memory of the creature charging through the window flooded his mind. He knew he was being weak and that his father was probably ashamed of him for letting his fear control him at the moment, but he couldn't help it.

After almost an hour of watching Dean stare up at the ceiling- obviously doing everything he could to stay awake- John had had enough.

"Dean, you need to go to sleep, son."

"I-I'm not tired," Dean said, his words interrupted by a huge yawn.

"Dean, it's almost midnight and you've had an extremely stressful night."

"I'm okay, Dad. Honest."

"I know you are, son. But that doesn't change the fact that you're exhausted and sick. You need to rest."

"I don't want to go to sleep."

"I know you don't, but it's what you need."

Dean rolled over onto his side, facing his brother, but he couldn't close his eyes. Every time he closed them, he remembered the sound of Sam crying in the back seat of the Impala. He remembered the way Sam clung to him. He remembered the sound the creature made when it pounded against the side of the car and the sound the glass made when it shattered and landed on the leather of the seat. But most of all, he remembered the sound of the gunshot in the air and the ringing in his ears that had lasted for almost a full hour.

"Dean, close your eyes, son."

Dean closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sounds of Sam's gentle breathing next to him. The night had been a complete nightmare, but it was over and Sam was safe and sound right next to him. His dad was safe and sound. Everything _should_ be alright, but Dean couldn't help but think that nothing would ever be alright in his world.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the late update. Life has been conspiring against me again, lol. Maybe not as much as it conspires against Sam and Dean, but still….

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope the action scenes work out for you all like they did in my mind. Writing action can be a bit of a challenge for me, but I think this chapter works.

Oh, and I quickly wanted to reply to a guest reviewer of chapter 14. I agree with you, Katy, that John should have been more observant of the fact that Dean was so sick and that it's not realistic to think that a parent would punish a child in such a way when they're sick. But, John isn't a normal parent and he is desperate in his attempts to teach Dean how to be a hunter and how to protect himself and his brother. That desperation and John's stubbornness leads him to do things a normal parent wouldn't. And I guess I don't see it as John beating Dean, because to me that implies a much harsher and more abusive event. You're right in the fact that he shouldn't have dealt with Dean in such a way, but John does a lot of things he shouldn't. I just wanted to share my thoughts on the topic and why I wrote it the way I did.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story.


	17. Chapter 17

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 17

* * *

They stayed at the small cabin for another few days while Dean recovered and John made sure there weren't any other creatures hiding out. He still had no idea what kind of creatures they actually were, so he planned on studying the remains as much as he could. Once he was done with that, he planned on salting and burning the bodies, just in case.

Unfortunately, the two carcasses were missing when he went outside the next morning. To John's eyes, it looked like they had been dragged away, but there wasn't enough of a trail to actually follow. He looked around the woods surrounding the cabin- not wanting to venture too far away from his boys- but he didn't find anything that would lead him to either the bodies of the creatures or to whatever had taken them away. It was all just a dead-end.

Heading back to the cabin, he found himself going over the night's events in his head and for what seemed like at least the hundredth time, he went through the sequence of events, hoping to find something that would help him deal with the aftermath.

Dean and Sam both had nightmares that night and for the several following nights, unsurprisingly. John even found himself waking up several times during the following nights with visions from his own nightmares of his boys being torn apart by the creatures. His mind constantly tortured him with the thought of how close he'd come to losing his children.

He had yet to do or say anything about the fact that the boys had disobeyed him by leaving the cabin, but he knew he'd have to do it sooner or later. He still had no idea why the boys were outside, but he really didn't think there was any excuse good enough to save either of them from ending up with a sore backside. They had their orders and they both knew the rules about following those orders, so in his mind, the two of them being outside was just a show of willful disobedience.

* * *

By the morning of the fourth day, John was getting antsy to leave. Dean was almost completely recovered from his cold and luckily, John and Sammy had completely escaped getting it. After breakfast, John sent the boys to pack up what little they'd unpacked, while he made a few phone calls. He still wasn't quite ready to have his talk with the boys, mostly because he didn't want the upcoming trip to be colored by both boys having been recently punished. _It was already going to be a long enough trip, as it was._

So, for both selfish and unselfish reasons, he decided to wait until they were back at Bobby's before he addressed the situation. The boys didn't know they were headed back to Bobby's, but John knew they wouldn't mind. They both loved it at Bobby's house and John had to admit that it was nice to have another person- someone he trusted- to help out with the boys. He knew that the older hunter loved his boys as if they were his own.

Sometimes he resented that fact. Usually, that resentment happened whenever he would get the feeling that his boys preferred their Uncle Bobby to their own father. Bobby tended to have way more patience with Sam and Dean, even though he didn't really put up with much from them. He also tended to be more playful with them, even though he'd never admit it. Bobby could spend hours showing Dean how to track and hunt. He'd spend hours reading to Sam and letting Sam read to him.

John didn't have that same patience, really. Especially when it came to doing things that weren't hunting related. He enjoyed teaching Dean how to shoot and clean weapons and throw a knife, but things were different with Sam. Sam didn't know about the supernatural world, so John couldn't have those same moments with his youngest son. _And he just didn't have time to listen to Sam reading Dr. Seuss or whatever it was he liked to read._

Whenever they were at Bobby's, John used the benefit of having another adult to look after the boys to his own advantage. He would often leave the boys with Bobby for days on end, while he researched, planned, and coordinated the hunt for whatever it was he was hunting. He knew he was taking advantage of the older hunter, but it didn't matter. The hunt had to come first.

And, no matter how grumpy and gruff Bobby was, no matter how much he complained, John knew that the man didn't mind it at all. Bobby Singer was a big, old teddy bear when it came to Sam and Dean.

* * *

Dean spent the next few days at the cabin alternating between trying to stick as close to his father as he could and trying to stay out of the man's sight. He was still pretty shaken by the events of that night, so having his dad close by drove away some of the fear he was still feeling. But, he was also nervous about how his dad was going to react to the fact that they were outside when they both knew they weren't supposed to be. In fact, he was downright shocked that the man hadn't brought it up at all yet.

John wasn't usually the type of man to let disobedience slide- no matter the situation- and Dean knew that. John was always swift to mete out punishment, so the fact that he hadn't yet left Dean feeling extremely uncertain about things.

While Dean found comfort, for the most part, when his dad was present, he was completely unnerved whenever Sam was out of his sight. It didn't happen often, of course, in the small cabin, but whenever Sam left the room to go to the bathroom or to walk into the kitchen, Dean found himself following closely behind. Of course, Sam never strayed too far away from his brother, either.

The nights were the worst. Dean found himself waking up several times a night from his own nightmares. He also woke up several times a night when he heard whimpers and crying coming from Sam during his own nightmare. All in all, all three of the Winchesters were stressed and exhausted.

The morning their dad told them to pack up was a good day, in Dean's mind. He was more than ready to leave the little cabin- and everything that had happened- behind. He hadn't stepped foot outside of the cabin since that night, so he really didn't know what to expect when he did. _Would he see the bodies of the creatures? Would there be signs of blood or broken glass on the ground? And what about the Impala?_ It wasn't until they were headed to the car that he remembered throwing up all over the floorboard of the back seat. _Was his dad mad about that? Did it still need to be cleaned up?_

Dean was relieved and a little embarrassed to see that the mess had already been cleaned up. He couldn't stand the thought of his father knowing that he'd been so scared that he'd thrown up like a baby, but his dad didn't say anything about it. After loading everything up in the car, the man just watched as the boys settled themselves in the back seat. Dean tried to keep his eyes off of the cardboard and tape that covered the broken window. And he didn't look his dad in the eye, but he could tell that the man wasn't going to make a big deal out of any of it. And he was thankful for that.

Although he really wanted to know where they were going, Dean didn't ask. Instead, he sat in the back seat of the car, watching out the back window as the miserable little cabin faded into the background. He hoped to never see it again.

* * *

That evening, they stopped at a small diner for dinner. Dean, who had finally gotten his appetite back, quickly scarfed down a bacon cheeseburger and his fries, plus half of Sam's. Sam was eating a little slower, taking the time to chew his food thoroughly like he'd learned in school. As he chewed, he looked around the small diner, checking out the other customers and watching the waiters and waitresses as they worked. He had just taken the last bite of his sandwich when he noticed someone looking at Dean. He watched for several minutes, surprised that the man's eyes had never once left his brother.

"Daddy? Why is that man staring at Dean?"

John was busy looking through his journal and talking to Bobby, so he really wasn't paying attention to Sam. Dean, on the other hand, perked up when he heard Sam say that someone was staring at him.

"What guy?" he asked his little brother.

"The guy at the counter," Sam answered. "He's been looking at you for a long time."

"Probably because I'm so good-lookin'," Dean said as he stuffed a few more of Sam's fries into his mouth.

"Dean, he's just staring at you…."

Dean finally found the man and he didn't want to admit it, but the man was kind of creepy. Their eyes locked across the small diner and Dean was quickly convinced that the man never blinked. Dean was the one that finally broke away from the staring contest, but when he looked back the man was still staring at him.

"Dad, can we go?" he asked.

John held up one finger as he continued to talk into the phone. Dean shifted uneasily in his seat and pulled Sam closer to him. He wasn't going to take any chances.

Eventually, John ended his call and closed the journal. He looked over to the boys to see if they were done eating, but the sight he was hit with was unnerving. Both Sam and Dean were huddled up together on the small bench seat and both of their faces were extremely pale. Dean had one arm around Sam's shoulder and Sam was clinging desperately to Dean's arm.

"What's wrong?" John finally asked.

Dean hesitated too long, so it was Sam that finally talked. "That man keeps staring at Dean," he said quietly. So quietly, in fact, that John could barely make out what he was saying. Once he figured it out, he turned to look in the direction Sam was pointing.

"What man?" he asked when he didn't see anyone in that general area. "All I see is the waiter. Are you talking about him?"

"No," Dean answered as he looked over to where the man was sitting. He was surprised to see that the man was no longer there. "He's gone. He was sitting right there, Dad, and he was just staring at me.

John could tell that both boys were freaked out, but he couldn't really do anything about it. The man obviously wasn't there anymore, so John had no way of dealing with it.

"Well, maybe he was just staring at you because you're so good-lookin'."

"Dad…" Dean groaned.

John put both of his hands up in front of him in surrender. "Hey, that was supposed to be a compliment." John stared around the room a little longer, trying to figure out if there was something weird going on. But, he didn't see or hear anything.

"Okay, boys…. Let's load up and hit the road, okay? We still have a lot of driving to do."

* * *

The Winchesters piled back into the Impala. John was eager to get back on the road and Sam had been about to fall asleep while they waited for John to pay the bill. Once they were back on the road, Sam quickly fell asleep with his head resting on his brother's shoulder, the weird man all but forgotten.

Dean was tired, too, but every time he closed his eyes, flashes of the creature crashing through the window of the car had him opening them again. He didn't miss the way his dad's eyes kept flicking back to him in the rearview mirror, but he tried his best not to make eye contact. He had a feeling his dad was gearing up to talk to him and he really wasn't ready for that.

Unfortunately, John Winchester's opinion on when it was the right time for something was all that mattered.

"Is your brother asleep?" John asked his oldest.

"Yes, sir."

"What about you? You ready to sleep?"

"Not really," Dean answered as he looked out the side window.

"Well, then maybe this is a good time to talk about what happened."

Dean didn't say anything. And John just watched him in the mirror for a few more seconds. Eventually, he called Dean's attention back to the conversation.

"So, do you want to tell me what happened?" he finally asked. When Dean didn't answer right away, he cleared his throat and continued. "Dean, we're going to talk about this, so you better start answering. What were you and your brother doing outside of the cabin? Did I not make it clear to you that you were supposed to stay inside with the doors and windows locked and salted?"

"Yes, sir."

"So why the hell were you outside?! You outright disobeyed me?"

Dean was frantically trying to come up with an answer that would keep him and his brother out of trouble, but he couldn't. When he figured that out, he started to try to think of one that would at least keep Sam out of trouble. In his mind, the kid had been traumatized enough already.

"Dean, I'm waiting for an answer, but I'm not going to wait much longer. If I don't hear some answers coming from back there, I'm pulling this car over. And I don't think you want me to do that, do you?"

"No, sir," Dean answered quickly. He had no idea how to get Sam out of the mess he'd created, so he finally just decided to tell the truth. "I went outside to protect Sam," he finally answered.

"What do you mean? Why would you have to do that? What, you heard the creatures out on the porch again and decided to go out and take care of them yourself?"

"No!" Dean quickly answered. "That's not what happened, Dad."

"Then _tell_ me what happened," John growled, obviously losing his patience.

Dean looked down at his little brother and sighed. There wasn't anything he could do, but tell the truth. "I fell asleep on the couch, Dad, and when I woke up, Sam was gone. I looked everywhere in the cabin for him and then I noticed that the door was unlocked."

"He left the cabin on his own?" John asked incredulously.

"Yes, sir. When I realized that the door was unlocked, I grabbed the gun and went out onto the porch. At first, I didn't see anything, but then I saw the Impala parked there. I thought that maybe you had come back, but I didn't see you anywhere. Then I saw Sam in the Impala. He was looking at me through the Impala and I could tell that something was wrong. And then I heard something behind me. Something big."

Dean stopped talking and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He was surprised that his dad didn't demand for him to continue. Instead, the man sat patiently in the front seat, his eyes occasionally leaving the road to check on his son.

After a few more deep breaths, Dean continued. "When I turned around, I saw one of the creatures coming at me, so I shot it. I wasn't even sure if I hit it, Dad. I didn't check. I just opened the door and jumped in the car."

John was quiet again for a few minutes, thinking through everything before he continued. Eventually, he looked back at Dean. "It was a good shot, Dean. Clean through the creature's neck."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. He knew that it was just luck, because he hadn't used any of the shooting tips his father had taught him when he was learning how to fire a gun.

"Why did Sammy leave the cabin?" John finally asked. "And why weren't you watching him?"

"H-He wanted to get his coloring book. And I'm sorry I wasn't watching him, Dad. It's all my fault and I swear it won't ever happen again!"

John eyed his son closely. "It's not like you to shirk your duties, son. What happened?"

Dean really didn't want to tell his dad that he had fallen asleep because he was sick. To him, it was pretty obvious, but he wouldn't ever say that to his father. Instead, he just kept his answers as general as he could. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I just did, I guess."

"I guess? Dean, if you had stayed awake and kept an eye on Sam, none of this would have happened."

"He was sick, Daddy. Remember?"

Dean's eyes jerked down to his little brother at those words. He didn't realize that Sam was awake. John also seemed surprised to hear Sam's voice. And he had no idea how to answer the boy. Yes, Dean had been sick, but that didn't excuse him from his duties. He was a soldier and a soldier did what he had to do, regardless of illness or injury.

 _Except, Dean wasn't really a soldier, was he?_ Without another word, John pulled the Impala over to the side of the road. Sam and Dean stared at each other, wide-eyed and nervous about what was going on. _Nothing good ever came from their dad pulling the car over on the side of the road._

Once the car was stopped, John turned around in the seat to face his sons. Neither one of them would look him in the eye until he cleared his throat loudly. Then, two sets of eyes quickly moved up to look at him.

"I remember, Sammy," John finally answered. "I guess I just didn't realize that he was so sick that he couldn't keep an eye on you."

"He was really sick, Daddy. He even threw up back here!"

Dean shoved his elbow into Sam's side, trying to get him to shut-up.

"Ow!" Sam cried out. And then…. "You did, Dean. Remember? It went all over the floor and it smelled really gross!"

"Sammy, please….."

Sam shut his mouth even though he didn't see what the big deal was.

"Maybe you want to explain to me why you left the cabin against my orders, Sam?"

Sam suddenly realized that his dad's attention was now on him and he knew he was in big trouble.

"I-I needed my coloring book. I was just gonna run to the car and get it, that's all." Sam's eyes were pooling tears and Dean couldn't help but pull him closer.

"I think you and I need to have a conversation about the difference between needing and wanting, Sammy," John growled. "You didn't _need_ your coloring book, you _wanted_ it. And you know better than to go off on your own."

Tears were now falling down Sam's little face and John was finding it hard to stay mad at the boy. He knew that Sam really needed to learn this lesson, but that didn't mean that he had to enjoy teaching it.

"Okay, when we get back to Bobby's, you and I are going to be having a serious talk, Sammy-boy. You can count on that!"

"Okay, Daddy," Sam answered sadly as he curled up into Dean's side even more. Dean watched his eyes close and felt his breathing start to even out.

"What about me?" Dean finally asked after Sam had fallen back to sleep.

"What _about_ you?" John asked.

"Am I in trouble for not…. not watching out for Sammy?"

John felt that ever familiar twinge of guilt at Dean's question. _How many times had he punished the boy for some perceived lack of not watching out for his brother? Notwithstanding, the shtriga incident, of course._

"You're not in trouble, son. I know you did the best you could and it's not your fault that you got sick, okay? And you saved Sam, Dean. You took out both of those creatures all on your own."

Dean couldn't believe that his father was actually praising him. And he couldn't believe that he wasn't in trouble. Just when he thought it couldn't get any weirder, his father said one last thing.

"I'm proud of you son. You handled everything like a seasoned hunter."

Dean nearly laughed at that, feeling anything but seasoned. He was pretty sure that other hunters didn't lose their dinner in the face of danger. He was pretty sure they didn't need to be carried away because their legs were too weak to hold them. And he was pretty sure that they didn't break down in tears and cling to their daddies along the way. To Dean's way of thinking, his dad should have been ashamed of him.

John seemed to be able to pick up on Dean's way of thinking, because the next thing he said shocked Dean to the core.

"Dean, did I ever tell you what happened on my very first hunt?"

"No, sir."

"I know you think I'm some kind of a badass hunter, Dean, but I wasn't always like that. The first hunt I went on was with Pastor Jim and another hunter named Martin. We were hunting something called a wraith and Pastor Jim tried to warn me about them. He told me that wraiths had the ability to heighten whatever emotions a person was feeling at the moment just by touching them. Those heightened emotions could drive a person temporarily crazy as they took over.

I thought I could handle it, and I wouldn't ever admit it, but I was really scared and nervous. Jim told me to stay with him, but I didn't listen. And the wraith got to me. With a single touch, that fear and nervousness completely took me over. I nearly cost a civilian her life because of it. And do you know what I did? I threw up all over myself. Right there in front of Jim and Martin and the lady we were trying to save…. I threw up."

"Really?" Dean asked, not completely sure that his dad wasn't just saying that to make him feel better about his own situation. Of course, that wasn't something that the man would ever really do. But then, neither was actually admitting to some kind of weakness, either.

"Really," John laughed. "There was a part of me that never wanted to go on a hunt again after that. Because the whole situation made me feel like I wasn't cut out to be a hunter. But, do you know what Pastor Jim said to me? He said that good hunters embrace the knowledge that there are things out there to be afraid of. He said that a good hunter doesn't let one mistake or one perceived weakness influence or color the rest of his hunting life. He said that it's okay for a hunter to be human, to show human weaknesses like fear. It's all part of being a hunter, Dean."

"Do you still get scared when you're hunting?" Dean asked in a quiet voice.

"Yeah, I do," John admitted. "I get scared that I'll fail and that someone will die because I couldn't do the job. I get scared that I'm not strong enough or smart enough. Sometimes, I still feel like throwing up all over the place, Dean. But, I've learned to push all that fear aside. Or at least to use it in some way. I don't let it hinder me from doing my job. And neither did you. You took out both of those creatures on your own, son. Despite the fact that you were probably terrified. You stowed that fear away and you did what you had to do. And I'm proud of you for that.

"I had to, Dad. I had to protect Sammy. He's just a kid."

* * *

Author's note: There you go. John finally (kinda) dealt with the issue. What do you all think of how he handled it? Too soft? Too hard? Just right? How do you think he should deal with Sammy once they get to Bobby's? And what's up with the strange man staring at Dean?

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews on the last chapter. I was really hoping that the intensity of the situation (as I saw it in my head) came through in the writing and it seems like most of you thought it did. I'm still trying to figure out the whole writing action scenes thing, so bear with me.

Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. And if you're interested, I started another little story called Winchester Family Vacations. I'd love it if you'd give it a read.


	18. Chapter 18

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 18

* * *

They stopped for gas three more times on the way to Bobby's. Sam and Dean slept through the first stop, but the second and third stop were bathroom breaks for the two boys. The first time they went to the bathroom, John went with them, trying to hurry them along as much as he could. The second time, though, John sent them off by themselves while he checked the air in the Impala's tires.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him to the bathroom as quickly as he could. His need for the bathroom outweighed his desire to not look like a little kid who was about to pee his pants. Luckily, Sam had to go, too, so he didn't try to slow his brother down.

Dean was hoping that the bathroom was a one stall bathroom with a lock on the door, but it wasn't. Stepping into the bathroom, he noticed that there were three urinals against the wall and three separate stalls. One of the stalls seemed to be occupied, so Dean ushered Sam into one stall before ducking into the other.

By the time he finished, Sam was already done and was at the sink, trying to turn the water on. He was having a hard time reaching the faucet, so Dean turned the water on before picking Sam up and holding him up to the sink.

After Sam was done, Dean washed his own hands, too. Just as they were about to leave, the other stall door opened and a man walked out. He was a tall, thin man and he had the most intense silver eyes Dean had ever seen. Dean was surprised to see the man staring at him so intensely, his gaze never leaving Dean's face as he walked over to the sink. Dean could feel his skin begin to crawl and he quickly pushed Sam behind him and towards the door.

"Let's go, Sam," he said quietly.

Sam hadn't noticed the strange man, at first, but he looked up when he heard the strange tone of Dean's voice. Dean turned and tried to push him forward, but the man suddenly reached out and grabbed Dean's arm.

"Let go of me," Dean cried, trying to yank his arm out of the man's grasp. The man only gripped his arm tighter, though.

"You shouldn't have done it," the man said as he stared at Dean. "You shouldn't have killed them."

"I didn't kill anybody," Dean yelled almost hysterically. His eyes were filled with tears and his whole body was shaking.

"You don't know what you've done, but you'll pay for it. Mark my word."

Dean pleaded with the man to let him go, the tears finally liberated from his eyes and streaming down his face. At the same time, Sam started pulling on Dean, trying to wrench him away from the strange man. Unfortunately, the man was stronger than both of them combined and his hand continued to grip Dean's arm to the point of making Dean's fingers feel numb and tingly.

By this time, Sam was crying, too, fear and desperation emanating off of his small body in waves. He kicked at the man and screamed at him to let go of his brother, but the man didn't even seem to notice him. Instead, the man's silver eyes bore into Dean's, making him wonder if the man was some kind of monster or witch. Or something equally as bad.

Just as suddenly as the man had grabbed Dean's arm, he let go of it. Sam and Dean had both been trying to pull Dean's arm away from the man's grip, so when he was no longer gripping, they both fell backwards and onto the floor. Dean scrambled backwards, practically moving himself on top of his brother, as the man stepped forward. Dean thought he was about to be grabbed again, but instead, the man just leaned forward and spoke directly to him.

"You have unsettled the balance of our world and for that you will pay. No life can be taken without retribution. Your day of reckoning will come, Dean Winchester."

With that, the man moved back into the stall he had come out of. In that exact moment, John bowled through the door, gun drawn and eyes dancing quickly over the scene before him. He had heard his boys screaming and had responded as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his chest with each step he took.

"Dean! Sam! What happened?!"

Dean and Sam were hanging onto each other, both staring wildly at the bathroom stall. It took them several seconds to realize that their dad was there and several more seconds to realize that the man wasn't coming back out.

"He g-grabbed my arm, Dad, and he w-wouldn't let go," Dean finally stammered out.

"Who?" John asked as he looked around the small bathroom. "Where did he go?"

Dean lifted his arm and pointed to the bathroom stall and then let it drop back to his lap as he watched John step forward to check it out. John thought that Dean looked like he might be in shock, but he didn't have time to stop and check on him. He needed to figure out what had his boys so freaked out in the first place.

Once he reached the bathroom stall, John kicked the door in, expecting to hear it slam against whoever was in the stall. There wasn't any way the man could have escaped without passing through John, but the door slammed open without colliding with anyone. The man was nowhere to be found.

John turned around and checked the other two stalls, not really expecting to find anything. Whoever the man was, he was no longer around.

"Where is he, Dad?" Dean asked with a shaky voice.

"He's gone," John replied as he knelt down by his sons.

"He c-can't be! I saw him go into that stall and he never came out. Where did he go?"

John could feel the panic building in his oldest son and could tell that Sam wasn't too far behind. _He really needed to curb the panic before it got out of control._ "Let's go," he said as he picked Sam up off the floor and grabbed Dean's hand to pull him up. He could tell that Dean was shaking all over, so he put his arm around the kid's shoulder and held him close. Dean hadn't said anything else and Sam had been completely quiet ever since John burst through the doors.

Stepping out of the bathroom, John noticed that a small crowd had formed, waiting to see what was going on. He didn't hesitate as he walked the boys past the crowd and to the Impala. Once he had them in the backseat of the car, he looked them each over from head to toe, checking for any visible wounds or injuries. He knew that the psychological and emotional trauma would have to be dealt with, too, but he needed to take care of the physical aspect first.

"Are you hurt anywhere, Sam?" he asked his youngest who was still crying softly. It nearly broke John's heart to see the big tears on the small face, but there was another part of him that wanted to tell Sam to get his emotions under control. He knew he wasn't being fair to the seven-year-old, but he didn't really have time to deal with tears.

Sam shook his head no to John's question and after he had checked the boy over thoroughly, John told him firmly to stop crying. "You're not hurt, Sam, so it's time to stop crying."

Dean didn't take too well to his dad telling Sam to stop crying. "He's scared, Dad," he said in defense of his brother.

"He's not a baby, Dean. He needs to learn to control his emotions." John turned back to Sam, who had moved a little closer to his brother. "Deep breaths, Sam, and pull yourself together."

Sam didn't really know what his dad meant by "pull yourself together," but he tried to stop crying. Eventually, his tears stopped and his breathing slowed down and only had an occasional hitch in it.

Once John was satisfied that Sam was coping better with the situation, he turned his attention to Dean. "What about you, Dean? Are you hurt?"

Dean hesitated long enough for John to get suspicious, but eventually he answered. "No, sir. I'm okay."

John didn't seem to believe the kid, so he did a quick check for any injuries by running his hands up and down Dean's body. He didn't miss the hiss of pain that escaped Dean's mouth when his hands moved over his right arm. He also noticed that Dean was holding his arm somewhat protectively against his stomach. Holding his arm gently, he pushed up the sleeve, immediately noticing the large area of redness and discoloration that would soon be an impressive bruise.

"How bad does your arm hurt?" he asked after a few minutes.

"It doesn't hurt," Dean answered quietly.

"Dean, don't lie to me. I can tell it _does_ hurt, so you need to answer my question. How bad does it hurt?"

"A little," Dean finally replied.

"Wiggle your fingers for me," John ordered. "Does that hurt?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now move your wrist back and forth? Does it hurt?"

Dean winced as he moved his wrist back and forth and then up and down. "Yes, sir."

John prodded the arm a little more before deciding that it wasn't broken. "I think it's just bruised, son. This time tomorrow, it'll probably look pretty bad. I'll run in and get some ice for it," John said after a small pause.

"No, Daddy! Don't leave us! What if he comes back?!"

John was surprised to hear Dean call him Daddy, since it had been years since the moniker had been shortened to just Dad. He was also surprised at how stupid he was for thinking it was okay to leave Sam and Dean alone while he ran into the store. Not for the first time, he was convinced that he wasn't cut out to be a father. _Well, at least a good father._

"Okay, okay…. I'm not going to leave you, Dean. I'm right here."

Dean settled back against the seat and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the seat. He was suddenly so exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. He only kept his eyes closed for a few seconds, though, before opening them again and looking up at his dad to see what he was doing.

John grabbed a blanket off the floorboards and draped it across his two boys. Once they were settled, he climbed back into the driver's seat and started the car. He knew that there were still people lingering around, wondering what had happened in the bathroom, but he didn't care. He needed to get his boys out of the area before something else happened.

"Okay, listen up, boys…. We're leaving, but at the next town, I'm going to stop at a drive-thru somewhere. We can pick up something to eat and drink and I can get some ice for your arm, Dean. Okay?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, back to his soldierly responses. Once they were on the road, Dean closed his eyes again, allowing himself to relax as much as he could. Sam was leaning up against his side and with his one good arm, Dean was holding onto him tightly. It wasn't long before the recent events won out over their mutual desire to not fall asleep, and within ten minutes they were both fast asleep.

John, however, felt like he'd never sleep again.

* * *

By the time they arrived at Singer Salvage, John was exhausted. He had driven almost straight through the next four hours, stopping only to run through a McDonald's drive-thru for food, drinks, and ice for Dean's arm. The boys woke up enough to eat their food and drink something before falling back to sleep. John had rigged a small sling for Dean to rest his arm in and made him take a few Tylenol for the pain. He was happy to see the boys fall back into what looked like a peaceful slumber.

Sam and Dean were both relieved when they woke up to find they were at their Uncle Bobby's. John hadn't been forthcoming about where they were going, so they both figured they'd be staying in another crappy motel in some other crappy little town. Being at Bobby's was a thousand times better.

Bobby greeted them with a solemn look, having been informed already of what had occurred. He took several minutes to look both boys over for himself and made sure to get Dean some fresh ice before the boys settled down for the rest of the night. He was just about to usher the boys up to the room they shared whenever they were there, but John had other ideas.

"Wait a minute. We need to talk for a few minutes before you boys go to bed."

"John, this can wait till morning. The boys are exhausted."

"They slept most of the way here, Bobby. And I still have no idea what happened other than the fact that a man assaulted Dean in some dirty gas station bathroom. I can't wait any longer."

Bobby wanted to argue with John, but knew better than to do that at the moment. "Fine. Let's sit at the table and get to talking, then. Are you boys thirsty?"

Sam immediately answered yes and Dean nodded his head. A minute later, there were two glasses of juice sitting in front of them and two cups of coffee for the older hunters. Once they were all settled, all of the attention was turned onto Dean.

"Okay, start from the beginning, Dean."

By the time Dean and Sam were through reliving the nightmare that had taken place just hours before, the night sky was starting to grow lighter. Both boys were answering question after question, and once they were done, they both were shaking again.

"So you're sure you've never seen this guy before?" Bobby asked.

"Never," Dean answered.

"And he didn't tell you what he wanted from you?" Bobby knew he was asking redundant questions, but he was desperate to find out anything he could.

"No, sir. He just said that I shouldn't have done it. That I shouldn't have killed them. And he said…"

"He said what, Dean…." Bobby prompted.

"He s-said I'd p-pay for it," Dean replied, his breath hitching painfully in his chest.

John and Bobby shared a long look, but eventually looked back at the boys. "Can you describe him to me?" Bobby asked, wondering how much of a description Dean could actually give since he'd been terrified. Bobby suddenly remembered the time he'd spent the summer before teaching both Sam and Dean the finer art of observation. Dean had shown great potential with his training, but so had Sam. For such a young child, Sam had been rather adept at paying attention.

But neither boy had much to say this time.

"I don't know," Dean said. "I think he had hair like yours, Uncle Bobby. Kinda brown, kinda gray. And not a lot on top. Oh, and he had crazy eyes!"

"What do you mean by crazy eyes, Dean?"

"They were scary."

"What color were they? Were they black?"

"They were grey, I think."

Suddenly, Sam sat straight up in his chair. "No, they weren't," he argued.

"Yes, they were, Sammy," Dean argued back.

"Dean, they weren't gray. They were silver, remember? Like the tin….the tin….um, like that stuff we put on the Christmas tree."

"The tinsel?" Dean offered.

"Yeah, like the tinsel. They glowed in the light, remember?"

Neither of the older hunters knew if Sam was talking about the man's eyes glowing or the remembered tinsel on the tree. Either way, silver eyes were rare and could definitely help narrow down the suspect pool.

Sam suddenly sat up straighter in his chair, obviously not done yet. "And his eyes were the same as that other man's, remember, Dean?"

"What other man?" John asked in confusion.

"The one at the diner, Daddy. Remember, I told you there was a man staring at Dean?"

"Was it the same man?"

"I don't think so," Dean responded. "The other man's hair was different and I don't think he was as tall.

"So, there are two of these men, John?"

"Sounds like at least two, doesn't it?"

"This just keeps getting better and better."

* * *

After going over the events two more times with Sam and Dean, John ushered them upstairs. He would usually tell them to get washed up before going to bed, but he didn't think skipping one night would be harmful. The boys quickly kicked off their shoes and climbed into the bed. And both of them were asleep within seconds.

Back in the kitchen, John sat staring into his cup of coffee, wishing that it was something infinitely stronger. He felt like he needed something to take the edge off.

"What do you think?" he finally asked.

"I don't know, John. I can't think of anything off the top of my head that fits the description, can you?"

"Not a thing," John admitted. "I guess we're going to have to dig deep to find something, right?"

"Sounds like it. In the meantime, you need to talk to your boys, John. They're hanging on by a thread, right now, and they're just about to unravel."

"They're fine," John answered. "Sam didn't have a single mark on him anywhere and Dean's arm is already looking better."

"You know damn well I'm not talking about their physical well-being, Winchester," Bobby growled.

John growled right back. "Sam and Dean are fine. They know not to let their emotions get the better of them."

"They're seven and eleven years old, John. They've just been assaulted and nearly kidnapped. They're scared out of their minds, mark my word."

"I'll have a talk with them, Bobby. But, for now we need to get going on some research and figure this out before that man or someone else like him decides to pay us another visit."

"Okay. Let's get on with it. We can't waste any time with this."

Without another word between them, they stood up, grabbed their coffee, and headed into Bobby's library. Both men vowed then and there that nothing was going to happen to Sam and Dean, as long as they were around.

* * *

Author's note: Thank you all for reading and (hopefully) reviewing. These stories I'm writing are definitely a labor of love and I truly appreciate you all. Your presence and your feedback are always greatly appreciated. Take care.


	19. Chapter 19

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 19

* * *

Dean woke up in a cold sweat. He could still feel the icy burn of the man's hands on his arms and nothing he did could make him shake the feeling. Knowing he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, Dean got out of bed and took a shower that left his skin reddened and raw, both from the heat of the water and the extensive scrubbing he'd subjected himself to. Once he was done, he put on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt to hide the redness.

Returning to the bedroom he shared with Sam, he was relieved to see that his brother seemed to be sleeping soundly, at least. Looking at the clock on the table by the bed, he realized that it was almost two o'clock in the morning. His stomach growled loudly and he really wanted to go downstairs for a snack, but another part of him wanted to stay safely in their bedroom.

Eventually, his growling stomach won out, though, so he made his way out of the room and down the stairs. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard someone talking and after a few more steps down the stairs, he could actually make out what the voices were saying.

"So, you think that's it, Bobby? That's what we're dealing with?" he heard his dad say.

"I don't know, John. Your guess is as good as mine, but so far that's the best I can come up with."

"Ever come across one of those before? Or heard of anyone who has?"

"Not that I know of. And there really isn't a lot of information out there, either."

"What exactly is it? And how do we stop it?"

"First of all, I think it's a 'them' not just an it. Dean and Sam both said the two men looked different. That could mean that there are a lot more of them out there and they could all look different. And we have no idea how to deal with them."

"What are we going to do then? It's weird that I haven't seen them at all. They obviously know how to lay low and stay under my radar. And that says a lot about them, doesn't it?"

"Hold on, John. Don't panic just yet. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve, so just give me a little more time. I'll find something we can use."

Dean chose that moment to make his presence known, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. Without stepping off the stairs completely, he called out for his dad and John immediately came around the corner.

"Dean? What are you doing up? Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just, uh… I had a bad dream."

John didn't miss the way Dean was shaking. Or the fact that he looked a little pale.

"Come here, son."

Dean stepped off the stairs and walked over to his father. Once he was standing in front of the man, he couldn't bring himself to look up at him. "Sorry, Dad," he said quietly.

"What are you sorry for?" John asked, genuinely confused at the apology.

"I tried to protect Sammy. I really did."

"You did protect Sammy, Dean. Sam said the man never touched him. He said you pushed him behind you." Dean continued to look down at his hands. "You did good, Dean. I'm proud of you."

For the first time, Dean looked up at his father, surprised to hear those words come out of his mouth. He could probably count on one hand the number of times his dad told him he was proud.

Looking over to the side of the hallway, he noticed Bobby leaning up against the wall.

"Hey, kid. Are you hungry?"

"A little," Dean admitted just as his stomach let out a loud growl.

Bobby and John both laughed.

"Come on, then. Let's see what I can come up with on short notice."

Dean turned and followed Bobby into the kitchen, taking his usual seat at the table. He watched as Bobby opened up the refrigerator and scrounged around. Pulling out a few ingredients, he turned back to Dean. "How does a BLT sound?"

"Sounds good, Uncle Bobby," Dean answered.

While he watched Bobby making the sandwiches for them, Dean kept glancing over at his dad. John had grabbed a soda out of the refrigerator for Dean and two beers for him and Bobby. Once he was sitting back at the table, he opened his beer and took a drink. Dean opened his soda up and took a long swig, too, before setting it back down on the table and looking up at his father.

"He said I shouldn't have killed them," Dean said so softly that both Bobby and John had to strain to hear. "He said I'd pay for it."

"Dean, we'll figure this out…" Bobby started to tell Dean that everything would be okay, but John stopped him.

"What else did he say, Dean?" John had already heard Dean explain everything several times, but he thought it might do the boy some good to go over it again.

"He said that I upset the balance of the world. What does that mean?"

Bobby sat a plate of sandwiches down on the table, but none of them moved to take one. "Dean, some people believe that there is a natural balance in the world. That for things to be as they should be, certain things have to be in balance. Like yin and yang. Have you ever heard of that?"

"Kinda," Dean answered.

"Well, it's like there are opposites of things that keep this natural balance in order. Darkness and light. Good and evil. War and peace. Life and death. These things are dependent upon each other to maintain that balance." Dean still looked a little confused, so Bobby tried a different tact. "Okay, so it's like this…. As one aspect increases, the other aspect decreases, right? When the sun comes up in the morning, the light increases and the dark decreases. When there's more good in the world, the evil lessens. When there's war, there's less peace and when there's peace, there's less war. Make sense?"

"Yeah," Dean answered as he reached out for a BLT. He nibbled on the sandwich as he tried to understand what Bobby was saying. "So, me killing those, um… those creatures upset the balance? But what if they'd killed us? Wouldn't that have upset the balance, too?"

John paled at Dean's words, knowing that his world would have been completely thrown off balance if those creatures had gotten to his boys. And nothing would have ever righted it.

"Yes, it would have," Bobby continued. "But whoever… or whatever… these things are…. They have their own beliefs when it comes to this. And we don't know what those beliefs are just yet, but we will. We'll figure it out."

"I'm sorry I killed them," Dean nearly whispered. "It's all my fault."

"Dean, you didn't have a choice," John said loudly and clearly. "You did exactly what you've been trained to do and exactly what you had to do. Killing them was the only way you and Sam would have survived, you understand? So, you can't be sorry for that. You were watching out for your brother."

Dean nodded his head and wiped away the tear that had rolled down his cheek. He was so scared and really didn't want his dad to know. Letting the man see him crying was embarrassing enough and Dean immediately squared his shoulders and tried to pull himself together.

No one said anything for a long time and eventually Dean was finished with his sandwich. He gulped down the last of soda and sat back in his chair. He couldn't keep from yawning and suddenly he really wanted to go back to bed. Unfortunately, he was too afraid that he'd have another nightmare.

"Let's go, kiddo," John said as he stood up and lightly grabbed Dean's arm. He didn't miss the way Dean flinched when his hand touched upon the bruise the man had left on his forearm, so he quickly moved his hand from Dean's arm and up to his shoulder. Dean stumbled to his feet and allowed his dad to lead him out of the kitchen and back up to the room he was sharing with his brother. He was relieved to see that Sam was still sleeping in the same position he'd left him in and didn't waste any time in crawling into the bed next to him.

"Think you can go back to sleep?" John asked him as he pulled the blanket up around Dean's shoulders.

"I think so."

John started to leave the room, but he stopped at the door and turned back to Dean. "We're going to figure this out, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

John walked to the door and turned out the light. With one last look at his boys, he closed the door and went back downstairs to try to figure out what the hell was going on.

* * *

The next three days were spent with John and Bobby researching in the library and Sam and Dean trying to find things to keep them occupied. Sam was annoyed with his big brother, because Dean didn't want to stray too far from their dad. His attempts to get Dean to go outside to play had so far been turned down and they were more often than not sitting in the living room watching old cartoons and action movies.

By the afternoon of the third day, Sam had had enough.

"Please, Dean! I'm so bored! Let's go outside."

"I don't want to, Sam."

"Why not?"

"I just don't. Now shut up! I'm trying to watch this movie."

Sam stomped out of the room, huffing along the way. Dean ignored him and kept watching the television, but when Sam didn't return after a few minutes, he started to wonder where he'd gone off to.

After checking the kitchen, bathroom, and their bedroom and still not finding his brother, Dean walked into the library. The boys knew to stay out of the library when the adults were researching, but Dean wanted to make sure that Sam hadn't gone in there.

"Hey, Dean," John said from his chair over by the window.

"Hi. I was just looking for Sam," Dean explained as he looked around the room. "Did he come in here?"

"Haven't seen him for a few hours. Did you check your room?"

"Yeah, he's not there."

"Well, he's here somewhere. Go find him."

"Yes, sir."

Dean looked through the house again and when he didn't find Sam, he knew he had to look outside. He took a deep breath as he opened the door, trying to shore himself up for it. He knew Sam's usual hangout spots at Bobby's, so after a quick look around the front yard, he made his way over to the garage. Sam wasn't really into working on cars, but Bobby had a stack of tires in one corner that Sam liked to play in. Of course, they'd been told many times not to play on them by Bobby. In fact, the last time they'd been found playing on the tires, Bobby had threatened to "wear them out" if he caught them doing it again. Dean wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, but he had a good idea.

"Sam!" he yelled loudly as he walked into the garage. He heard a squeak coming from the corner, so he knew he'd been right. Sam was hiding in the tires, but Dean could hear him breathing. The kid always breathed loudly when he was nervous.

"Sam, I know you're in here. I can hear you breathing."

Sam giggled a little, making Dean laugh, too. "I have to breathe, Dean," he said loudly. "I'll die if I don't."

"You don't have to breathe so loud, though, Sammy. That's why you never win at Hide and Seek. And you better get out of there before Uncle Bobby finds you. Remember what he said?"

Sam mumbled something that Dean couldn't make out. When he asked him again and still didn't hear his answer, Dean finally climbed up on the stack of tires and looked for his brother. As he was climbing up the stack, though, it shifted a little and Dean thought the whole stack was going to topple. Fortunately, it didn't, but has he looked at Sam, who was inside the stack of tires, he realized he had a strange look on his face.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Dean asked immediately.

"I'm stuck, Dean," Sam said in a strange voice.

Dean could tell his brother was just seconds away from crying and he could feel his own heart speeding up. "Hold on, Sam. I'll get you out. What part of you is stuck?"

"My leg! I was standing on two tires and one of them moved," Sam was crying now and Dean wondered how much he was hurt.

"Can you move it at all?"

"I can't. It won't move. Dean, go get Daddy."

"It's okay, Sam. I can get you out, okay?" Dean climbed inside the tires and made his way down to his brother. There wasn't room for him to go all the way, so he stopped just above Sam. He needed to see exactly how Sam was pinned in the tires and from what he could see, he thought that he would just have to move a few tires from the top to get to the tire that was wedging Sam in. "I gotta go back up, Sam, but just for a second, okay?"

"Don't leave me, Dean," Sam begged.

"I'm not leaving you, Sammy. I'm just gonna climb up and move some of these tires out of the way, so I can get to the tire that's pinning you."

Sam watched as Dean climbed back up the stack and waited while he worked to move the ones on top. Once he'd moved the top two tires, he checked out the stack again, making sure that he wasn't going to make it shift again.

There were now only two tires above the one that had trapped Sam, so Dean slowly pushed the top one over. The stack shifted slightly and Sam cried out, but only because he was scared. It hadn't shifted enough to cause Sam pain.

Now that Dean could see Sam and see how the tire was leaning, he thought he would be able to push it over enough for Sam to be able to get his leg out.

"Okay, Sammy…. On the count of three, I want you to use your arms and lift yourself up, okay? Push up as hard and fast as you can. Ready?" Sam nodded his head. "Okay, one…. two….. THREE!"

Dean pushed on the tire with everything he had and at the same time, Sam lifted himself up a little. The tire moved just enough to allow Sam to pull his leg up and Dean immediately reached for his brother, pulling him the rest of the way out. Once they were back on the garage floor, Dean pulled his brother to him. "Are you okay?" he immediately asked.

"My leg hurts," Sam cried.

"Can you walk?"

"I-I think s-so."

Dean watched as Sam took a few steps, noticing that he was limping. "Let me see your leg, Sammy." Dean reached down and pulled up Sam's pant leg. There was a dark red area right below his knee and around his calf, and Dean knew it was going to be a pretty good sized bruise. "Come on, Sammy. We need to let Dad and Uncle Bobby look at your leg."

"NO!" Sam answered immediately. "I'll get in trouble, Dean!"

"We have to, Sammy. We have to make sure it's not hurt really bad." Dean knew he was in for it, too, but they didn't have a choice. Sam's leg needed to be checked out. "Come on. I'll give you a piggyback ride."

Dean bent down and motioned for Sam to climb up onto his back. Sam wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders and his legs around his waist and once he was settled, Dean pushed himself up and made his way back to the house. He really wasn't looking forward to his dad and Uncle Bobby finding out what had happened.

"Hey, Sam… Let me do all the talking, okay? I'll tell Dad it was my idea to play on the tires."

"Why? Then you'll get in trouble, too."

"I'm already gonna be in trouble, because I didn't go get Dad right away. And you're _already_ in trouble, remember? For leaving the cabin? You don't want Dad to be even _madder_ at you, do you?"

Dean hated the way Sam's face paled at his words, but he really wanted to keep his little brother from getting into more trouble than he was already in. Once Sam agreed to let Dean do all the talking, he opened the door and stepped into the house. They could hear John and Bobby talking in the kitchen, so Dean made his way there.

The second they were through the door, John and Bobby could tell that something was wrong with the youngest Winchester.

"What happened?" John asked as he made his way over to his boys.

"Sammy hurt his leg," Dean said simply.

John quickly grabbed Sam from off of Dean's back and sat him down on the kitchen counter. After asking Sam which leg was hurt, he pulled up the pant leg and checked it out. Once he was done, he looked over at Bobby. "I don't think it's broken, but can you take a look at it, Bobby?"

Bobby stepped over and ran his hand up and down Sam's leg. Then he made Sam wiggle his toes and move his ankle back and forth. Satisfied with what he was seeing, he turned back to John. "Nothing's broken, but he's definitely gonna have a big bruise. I'll get some ice."

Bobby turned to get some ice and John looked down at Sam. "Can you walk on it?" he asked.

"Yeah, but it hurts, Daddy," Sam answered.

"I'll get you some medicine for it, Sammy. And the ice will help, too." Turning to Dean, he asked again what had happened.

"We were playing and Sam's leg got trapped," Dean explained. He thought that maybe, just maybe, they could leave out the part about playing on the tires and get away with it, but then he realized that Bobby would see that the tires were toppled over the minute he stepped into the garage and figure it out anyway.

"Got trapped in what?" John asked, already growing suspicious and also annoyed with Dean's stalling tactics.

Dean looked over at Sam and then at Bobby before answering. "In the tires."

"What tires?" John asked, obviously not knowing anything about the stack of tires and the warnings that Bobby had already given the boys.

"You were playing on the tires?" Bobby asked angrily.

"Yes, sir."

"How many times have I told you not to be playing on those tires, boy?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably where he was standing. "I don't know."

"What kind of answer is that?!" Bobby roared. Dean was sure he'd never seen the man so angry at him.

"I-I'm sorry," he answered. And then, "A lot, I guess."

"You guess? Damn it, boy. Sammy coulda been killed. _You_ coulda been killed. Those tires are not to be played on and you damn well know it!"

"What tires is he talking about, Bobby?" John asked, wanting to be clued in on what the big deal was. After Bobby finished explaining, John turned his attention back to his oldest son. "What the hell were you thinking, Dean? Did you not understand when Bobby told you to stay off the tires?"

"I did, sir," Dean answered.

"So, what? You think you don't have to listen to Bobby? You think you don't have to follow his rules?"

"No, sir. I just…."

"You just what?"

"We were bored."

"You were bored….."

"Yes, sir."

John turned to look at Sam, who was still sitting up on the counter and had tears falling down his grubby face. "What about you, Sam? Did you know that you weren't supposed to be playing on the tires?"

"Yes, sir."

John ran a hand over his face and through his hair. After staying up until almost four o'clock in the morning and then spending most of the day researching in the library, he was exhausted. The last thing he wanted to have to do was discipline his children.

"So, you both knew better than to climb around on those tires, but you did it anyway."

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean both answered at the same time.

"But it was my idea, Dad," Dean continued. "Sam didn't want to, but I wanted to play King of the Hill."

John knew that Dean had a penchant for taking the heat for his little brother, but he didn't have the strength to figure out if that was what was going on at the moment. Instead, he decided to take Dean at his word.

"So, you knowingly pulled your brother into doing something that you weren't supposed to do and that could hurt him?"

Dean nodded his head, not able to speak at the moment.

"Answer me, Dean," John barked.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, kid. Go on up to your room and wait for me."

"What about Sam?"

"Don't worry about your brother. Just do what I said."

Dean gave Sam a sad look and then turned and made his way up to their room.

* * *

John turned back to Sam, who was now holding a bag of ice to his leg. "I'm disappointed in you, Sammy. You're almost eight years old and I expect you to start making better decisions. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Sam answered with a sniffle.

"You need to learn to make your own decisions and not always follow your brother. More often than not that kid will lead you into trouble." John knew he was being unfair to Dean, but he was angry. All in all, he knew Dean was a good kid, even if he did occasionally make some poor decisions.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Sam said sadly.

"Well, you and I are going to have a little chat about some of the decisions you've made recently. You're old enough now to know and do what's expected of you, Sam. And you're old enough to know that if you don't, you're going to be punished. First, you left the cabin when I told you to stay put, putting both you and your brother in grave danger. And now, you ignored Bobby's rules and got yourself hurt. Do you see the problem we have?"

"Yes, sir."

"I know your leg is hurting, so I'm going to put off your punishment until tomorrow. But tomorrow, you're getting a spanking."

Sam immediately started crying at his dad's words, even though he wasn't surprised by them. John spent a few minutes talking to him a little more about everything and turned to look at Bobby. "Since they disobeyed your rule, you got anything to add, Bobby?"

Bobby looked at Sam. "You're lucky I'm not taking my wooden spoon to your backside, Sam. But I know your dad's gonna do a good enough job for both of us. The only thing I'm going to add is some extra chores when you're up and moving around a little better. I think this house needs a good cleaning and I know two naughty boys that can do just that."

"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby," Sam said.

"I know you are, Sam. But, next time do as you're told. I told you boys to stay off the tires because I didn't want you to get hurt. And now look what happened."

"I'll never play on them again, Uncle Bobby. I promise."

Bobby nodded his head at Sam and patted him on his uninjured knee. John picked Sam up off the counter. "Bobby, I'm going to go settle him down on the couch. Think you could get him some medicine?"

"Sure thing, John."

John walked Sam over to the couch and set him down. He moved him so that his back was up against the arm rest and put a pillow under his sore leg. Once Sam was settled and the television was turned on to something he could watch, John turned to head upstairs.

* * *

Dean threw himself down on the bed as soon as he walked in the bedroom. He could already feel the tears burning his eyes and he wished he could just disappear. The past week had been awful and he was tired of always being stressed about something. _Why couldn't anything ever go right for a change?_

He felt guilty for not playing with Sam earlier, knowing that if he had, Sam wouldn't have gotten hurt. If he'd been outside with his brother, they would have found something else to do and Sam wouldn't have ever played on the tires. And they wouldn't be in the trouble they were in now.

He also felt stupid for being so scared. That's why he didn't want to go outside when Sam asked him to. He had an irrational fear that one of the silver-eyed men would show up outside and he definitely didn't want to come face to face with one of them again.

He definitely didn't want to come face to face with John Winchester, either, but he knew he didn't have a choice on that matter. Nothing he could do could keep that from happening.

* * *

He had been upstairs for almost fifteen minutes when he heard the sound of his father's footsteps on the stairs. He thought it odd that he could tell the difference between his dad's footsteps and his Uncle Bobby's footsteps. His dad's always sounded heavier, like the man was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The cadence was quicker, too.

His stomach felt like he'd swallowed a bunch of butterflies as he waited for the door to open. He sat himself up, trying to prepare himself for what was to come as much as he could. He knew he was in for it. He knew his dad was angry and disappointed. And he was angry and disappointed, too.

Angry at Sam for being so stupid and getting them into this mess in the first place. And disappointed in himself for letting his fear control him. Before he could think any more on any of that, the door opened and John stepped into the room. Dean immediately noticed how tired the man looked and he suddenly felt even worse.

John walked across the room and leaned up against the wall near the window. He stared outside for several long seconds before turning back to Dean with a sigh.

"What were you thinking, Dean?" he finally asked.

"I guess I wasn't," Dean answered. "We were bored and we just thought it would be fun to climb on the tires."

"We?"

"I," Dean quickly corrected. " _I_ thought it would be fun."

"Did you forget that Bobby told you to stay away from the tires?"

"No, sir. I remembered."

"But you decided to play on them anyway…"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Dean said with a shrug.

"That's not an answer, Dean."

When Dean didn't answer right away, John answered for him.

"I'm sure I know why. You didn't think you'd get caught, right? You knew that Bobby and I were doing research and you figured that we wouldn't be checking up on you. Is that it?"

Dean hated lying to his dad, but he was so deep into the lie now that he couldn't stop. "Yes, sir."

John pushed himself off the wall and moved over to the bed, sitting down next to Dean. Dean edged away from him just a bit. "So, let me get this straight….. you were playing on the tires and somehow Sam's leg got stuck. How did you get his leg out?"

"I, um…. I pushed some of the tires off the pile until I could get to the one that was trapping him."

"So, you're saying that the pile shifted causing one of the tires to move enough to trap Sam's leg. And then you shifted the pile even more to get Sam out. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, you do realize that you could have made everything worse by moving the tires, right? You could have caused the whole pile to collapse in on your brother."

Dean's face paled at his father's words and he suddenly felt like he wanted to throw up. "I was careful, Dad," he said, trying to convince both his dad and himself of the fact.

"That's not the point," John nearly yelled. "You should have come to me the second it happened, Dean. You shouldn't have taken such a risk on your own."

"I'm sorry," Dean said weakly.

"I know you are. I know you wouldn't intentionally do something that might get your brother hurt. Or yourself, for that matter. But, you have to start thinking things through, Dean. You can't keep acting impulsively. As a hunter, you have to be able to look at a situation and figure out the best course of action. You have to look at it from all different angles and consider all of the consequences of your actions. You _have_ to think, son."

Dean stared down at a hole in the knee of his jeans, not knowing what to say. He knew that his dad was mad that they were playing on the tires- or at least that Sam was playing on the tires- but he knew that the man was even madder at the fact that Dean tried to handle it on his own.

"I think we've had this discussion before, haven't we? About thinking through your decisions and not being impulsive?"

"Yes, sir."

"And I guess I don't have to tell you that I'm tired of discussing the same thing over and over again."

"No, sir."

"So, I guess you know what to expect then?"

Dean nodded his head and was surprised when his dad didn't make him give a verbal answer.

"Okay, well….. let's get this over with. Stand up, Dean."

Dean stood up and allowed his dad to pull him towards him. Seconds later, he was facedown over his dad's knee, staring at the worn floorboards and waiting for the first smack to fall. He didn't have to wait long.

* * *

Author's note: Goodness gracious….. those boys sure do know how to get themselves in trouble, don't they? John Winchester definitely has his hands full sometimes.

I know this chapter didn't move the story forward too much, but I'm pretty sure the next few chapters will. Any ideas on who/what the silver-eyed men are?

I've been a writing fool lately, so I hope the quality of the work is still good. I have three Supernatural stories going at the moment, so I really hope I keeping them all straight in my head. Let me know if you find anything weird or something that doesn't make sense. Oh, and thanks so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. Y'all are awesome!


	20. Chapter 20

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 20

* * *

After John was finished dealing with Dean's misbehavior, he left him in his room to take a nap and went down to check on Sam. He felt completely depleted, not only because he just had to punish his son and still had another one to deal with, too, but because it seemed like his family could never seem to catch a break.

They never seemed to be able to go one single day without something- some chaos or some evil- wreaking havoc on them. All he asked for was one single day of normal, but he knew that was too much for him to ask. Too much for a _Winchester_ to ask.

Contrary to popular belief, he hated the catastrophe that had become his life. Although there was a part of him that got a thrill from hunting, a part of him that thrived on the adrenaline of taking out some evil, monstrous being, he wished that he could live a normal life. For his boys' sakes.

He wished that he could buy a house and settle down. He wished that he could coach Dean's Little League baseball team or lead Sam's Boy Scout pack. He wished he could worry about the weeds growing in his grass or the gutters that needed to be cleaned out before the next rainy season started. And he wished he had time to teach Dean how to mow the grass or grill burgers or show Sam how to fix a garbage disposal.

Instead, he was having to teach his boys how to clean and shoot guns and how to salt the doors and windows to keep the evil out. He was having to uproot his boys every few months, before they ever had a chance to feel settled in anywhere. He had to treat Dean like he was so much older than he was, putting more responsibility on the boy's young shoulders than he ever had any right to. He had to be tough and unyielding in order to keep his boys safe. And he hated that. He hated it with every fiber of his being.

He knew that Sam and Dean weren't really scared of him, but they did have a strong healthy fear of him. He was tough on them, expecting them to do what they were told without question. He expected obedience and respect and the boys knew it. And they knew what to expect when they screwed up. If he didn't follow through with his part of it all, if he let them get away with things, he would be confusing them and letting them down.

John knew that Bobby thought he was too hard on Sam and Dean, but he also knew that in certain situations, the man agreed completely with his version of discipline. And this was one of those times. He could tell by the look on Bobby's face earlier that the man was about ready to turn both boys over his knee, too. And there was a part of him that wished he could have let the man take over and give him a break from the challenge that was being the father of two Winchesters.

Walking into the living room, John wasn't surprised to see Sam sitting up on the couch, his leg propped up on the pillow, and tears spilling down his face. He knew that Bobby and Sam could hear the sounds coming from upstairs and he knew that Sam hated to listen to his brother being punished. He couldn't help but feel guilty, but he knew that he did what he had to do.

"Hey, Sammy." John gently picked up Sam's legs and slid in underneath them. Once he was settled, he put Sam's legs down across his own legs. "How are you feeling?"

"My leg hurts." Sam wiped the tears from his face and glanced over to the stairs. John knew that what he really wanted was to go upstairs and check on his brother.

"He's fine, Sammy," John said. "A little upset, but he's fine." John was surprised to see more tears falling down the boy's face.

"You s-spanked h-him."

"Yes, I did. Dean knew better than to play on those tires, Sam. He knew what would happen if you got caught."

"But, he wasn't playing on the tires, Daddy!"

John eyed Sam closely. "What do you mean?"

"Dean wasn't playing. He was trying to save me."

"He wouldn't have had to save you if the two of you weren't playing on them in the first place, Sam."

"It's my fault," Sam cried. "I was playing on them. Dean didn't know until he saw me."

John cursed under his breath, a new spike of anger surging through him at the thought of Dean lying to him to protect his brother from getting into trouble. Again. _He really needed to talk to the boy about that._

"So, Dean lied about that. He said it was his idea."

Sam nodded his head and stared down at his leg.

"And you let him? Even though you knew he was going to get in trouble?"

Sam started crying even harder at John's words. "He t-told me to, Daddy. He said he was already in trouble because he didn't come and get you when he saw I was stuck. H-He said he d-didn't want me to get in more trouble because you were still m-mad at me for leaving the cabin."

Sam was crying so hard that John was having a hard time understanding everything he was saying. But he got the gist of it. And just like he thought, Dean was trying to protect his brother.

"Sam, this has to stop, you hear me? If you do something wrong, you have to be man enough to own up to it. You can't let your brother keep taking the blame for you."

"I'm sorry! I was scared, Daddy! You and Uncle Bobby were so mad!"

"Yeah, well, your brother was punished for something he didn't do. How do you think he feels about that? How do you think _I_ feel about that?"

Sam didn't answer at first, but after several long seconds, he muttered another "I'm sorry."

"I know you're sorry, but that doesn't cut it, Sam. You're a Winchester and Winchesters don't hide from their trouble. That's a lesson you need to learn and you need to learn it quick. Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy… um, I mean… yes, sir."

John reached over and placed a finger under Sam's chin, pushing it up slightly so he could see the boy's face. "Look at me, Sam." When Sam finally looked up, John continued. "This ends now, understand? No more letting Dean take the blame for you when you do something wrong."

John knew that it _wouldn't_ be the last time Dean took the blame for his brother, but he also knew that Sam wouldn't be so quick to let it happen again in the future. Sam hated knowing that his brother was punished and he hated it even more knowing that he was being punished unfairly. "Okay, well…. we'll be talking about this more tomorrow when it's time for your punishment."

"Okay," Sam answered sadly. John was about to get up and get back to his researching, when Sam stopped him. "Can I go upstairs?" he asked.

John almost told him no, since being confined to the bedroom alone was part of Dean's punishment, but he could tell that Sam was tired and worried about his brother. He could also do without having to worry about Sam, so he gave in. "Okay, but Dean's being punished, so no playing games or anything. He's supposed to be sleeping and I expect you to take a nap, too."

"Okay." Sam agreed without hesitation, and a few seconds later, John gathered him up in his arms and headed upstairs.

* * *

Upon entering the room, they could both tell that Dean was asleep. Sam immediately noticed the tear tracks on his brother's face and he felt his eyes well up with his own tears again. John didn't waste any time and quickly laid Sam down on the bed next to his brother. After making sure he was settled and comfortable, he gave him a quick kiss on the top of the head. "No getting up without me, Sam. Got it?"

Sam nodded his head as a big yawn overtook him.

"Okay, I'll come wake you boys up when dinner is ready." With that, John turned and walked out of the room. He looked back one last time to find Sam snuggling a little closer to Dean and Dean shifting over slightly towards his brother.

* * *

Once he was back downstairs, John poured himself a glass of whiskey and joined Bobby in the study. He knew that the man was dying to know how the boys were doing, so he quickly put him out of his misery. "They're fine, Singer. Both of them are probably sound asleep by now. And no, I wasn't too hard on Dean. The sting in his backside will be gone by the time he wakes up."

"Can't believe the boy still played on the tires after my last warning," Bobby growled.

"About that…. Apparently, he didn't. Sam said that he was the one playing on the tires and Dean tried to make him stop. Dean only climbed on the tires to help his brother."

"Damn it!" Bobby swore. "That kid has no self-preservation tendencies at all, does he?"

"Not when it comes to something involving his brother. I guess that's my fault, isn't it? All he ever hears is 'watch out for Sammy.' He's just doing what he's trained to do, I guess."

"He needs to learn when it's the right time to do that, though."

"I've had that talk with him a few times already. I guess I need to have it again. Anyway, find anything while I was gone?"

"Yes, in fact. Do you remember that professor that helped us out on the Sisemite thing a few years ago? Something I read in one of my books made me think that he might be about to help us, so I gave him a call. He said he might have an idea and he's sending us some information. I need to head over to the library and pick up a fax."

"What does he think it is?" John asked immediately, not wanting to have to wait for Bobby's field trip to the library.

"He thinks it's a Nagual. There are multiple versions of what a Nagual actually is and as far as I know, no hunter has ever come across one. But, he seemed pretty interested when I told him what we were up against."

"A Nagual. I've never heard of it before."

"I hadn't either," Bobby explained. "Professor Tochtli said that MesoAmerican Indians believed that the nagual is a man that can transform himself into an animal. More specifically, the nagual is the animal that a man transforms into. He said some people believe that the men are sorcerers or witches. Others believe that the nagual is a personal guardian spirit that resides in an animal. They are mostly believed to be harmless, but there are stories that say that in order to become a nagual you have to do a pact with the devil."

"That doesn't sound harmless."

"Either way, we'll know more when I get that fax, so I'm going to head out. How about if I bring some pizza home with me." Bobby knew that Dean loved pizza and John knew that he suggested pizza because of that. He also knew that Bobby would probably find some pie to bring home, too.

"Pizza sounds good," he answered.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, Bobby turned around and walked out of the library, leaving John to stare at all the open books around the room. Without anything else to do, John grabbed a book and sat down to do some more research.

* * *

Dean woke up to find Sam lying next to him, sound asleep. He laughed at the small stream of drool that was making its way down his brother's chin until he saw that the drool was landing on _his_ pillow. Regardless of how disgusting that was, though, Dean didn't wake his brother up.

Rolling over, he was surprised to see that the sting he'd felt in his backside as he fell asleep was no longer there. He groaned at the memory of that had happened as he sat on the edge of the bed. He really didn't know what to do because he wasn't really sure if he was allowed to leave the bedroom and he really didn't want to face his dad at the moment. Or Uncle Bobby.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he heard a tapping sound coming from over by the window. As he looked over, he was surprised to see a rather large black bird sitting on the window ledge, tapping its long beak against the window. He had no idea what kind of bird it was, just that it was really big and scary looking.

It also freaked him out a little because it looked like the bird was staring at him.

After a few minutes of watching the bird tapping the window, Dean stood up and walked across the room. He expected he bird to fly away once he got closer, but it didn't. Instead, it just continued to stare at him as it tapped away.

Dean had no idea how long he stood there, watching the bird. It could have been mere minutes or long hours. It wasn't until he noticed that the bird's beak seemed to be bleeding that he started to think that _something_ wasn't right. Despite the bleeding, the bird never stopped tapping and never looked away from Dean.

Dean was just getting ready to call for his dad when the glass showed its first crack. It surprised him so much that he suddenly found it hard to move. In fact, he suddenly found that he couldn't move at all. At the same moment he realized that he was paralyzed, he heard Sam's sleepy voice behind him.

"Dean? What's going on?"

Dean tried to answer, but it was as if his vocal cords were paralyzed, too. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest and he could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed too fast, but he couldn't seem to move a single muscle of his own volition.

It didn't take Sam too long to figure out that something was wrong with Dean, thankfully. Despite the fact that his leg was still really hurting him and he could barely stand up, he climbed out of bed and moved towards the door. Once the door was open, he began screaming for his dad with everything he had in him.

* * *

John had just picked up his third book when he heard Sam screaming for him. He could tell immediately that it wasn't just an ordinary scream, like the one his son sometimes let out when Dean was teasing him or making him mad. No, this scream was a scream filled with terror and panic.

John was sure he'd never made it up the stairs as fast as he just did. He nearly ran into the hallway wall when he came out of the staircase and tried to go towards the boys' bedroom, but he miraculously kept his balance. His eyes widened at the abject look of fear on Sam's face when he saw him.

"Sam! What's wrong?"

Sam moved aside and John immediately ran into the room. It took him a full two seconds to comprehend what he was seeing and even then he didn't _fully_ comprehend it. Dean was standing over by the window- ramrod straight and looking like he was completely frozen in place- and there was a large black bird tapping its beak violently against the window. He was surprised to see the cracked glass and the blood dripping from the bird's beak and it took him another few seconds to process the fact that the bird was going to break through the glass at any minute.

Pulling his gun out of his waistband, John yelled for Dean to move out of the way. He was surprised when Dean didn't even flinch. Not having any other choice, John pushed Dean aside and lifted the gun up, pointing it directly at the bird. Before he could even get a shot off, though, the bird suddenly flew away.

John stood there, staring at the window, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Eventually, the sounds of Sam saying Dean's name over and over again, pulled him out of whatever state he'd been in. He immediately moved over to where Dean had landed when he pushed him and knelt down next to the boy.

"Dean? Hey, look at me, son. Dean!" Dean seemed to be frozen, not even blinking his eyes as far as John could tell. John also noticed that his skin was cold and strangely clammy. "Dean!"

When Dean still didn't respond in any way, John started gently shaking him by the shoulders as he called his name. The shaking grew more and more intense with each passing second. He could hear Sam crying next to him and there was a part of him that wanted to join the boy because whatever state Dean was in was something John had never seen before and he was really starting to get worried.

"Watch out, Sammy. I'm going to put him on the bed." John reached under Dean's knees and lifted him up to his chest. Sam scrambled out of the way, allowing John to move Dean over to the bed. Once he laid the boy down, he pulled the blankets up almost to his neck. "Sam, go grab some more blankets."

Sam scrambled out of the room and returned less than a minute later with an armful of blankets. He helped his dad spread the blankets out over Dean, his hands shaking crazily. "What's wrong with him?" he asked with a voice as shaky as his hands. John could tell that the kid was barely holding it together.

"I don't know, Sammy. But, he'll be okay."

Sam didn't look like he believed his dad at all, and John didn't blame him. _He wasn't really sure he believed himself._

* * *

Author's note: Whew! I'm a little tired after all of that, lol. And after the last few weeks I've had. As some of you already know, my youngest son wrecked (totaled) his car and then a week later had to have an emergency appendectomy. It's been two long weeks of dealing with insurance and hospitals/recovery. Just in case you were wondering why I was a little late in updating, that's why. ;)

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter. And what you think of the Nagual. Just so you know, the nagual is a real folklore. I'm just twisting it a little to fit my story, but most of what I've come up with can be found on the internet. Is it working for you all? And the Sisemite is supposedly real, too.

***Sisemite (pronounced see-see-mee-tay) is a shaggy, Bigfoot-like creature of the wilderness from Mayan folklore.


	21. Chapter 21

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 21

* * *

Bobby had been gone for almost an hour. He had gone directly to the library, anxious to get the fax that Professor Tochtli had sent him. It took everything he had to not sit in the parking lot and read it right then and there, but he didn't. Instead, he stopped by the grocery store to pick up a few things- including a pie for Dean- and then stopped by a pizza place to pick up dinner.

The drive home was spent with him eyeing the stack of papers on the seat next to him as he thought about everything that had happened that day. He hated the thought of either of the Winchester boys being spanked, but he knew that that was John's preferred method of punishment. Quick and to the point. No mixed messages. No inconveniences.

It wasn't like John could be the type of dad to ground his sons or take away their toys. Sam and Dean didn't really have toys that could be taken away, after all. And grounding them wasn't much different from the life they already led. It wasn't like they got to hang out with friends or go to the movies or anything like that.

Of course, there was always the extra training and the extra research that John sometimes assigned to his wayward sons. He knew that Dean didn't mind the extra weapons or tactical training, but he hated the extra research. And Sam was just the opposite. He hated the weapons training, but didn't mind the extra research. John knew this, of course, so he usually assigned Dean the extra research and Sam the extra weapons training. _John Winchester had a diabolical mind, for sure._

Bobby was hoping that by the time he got home everything would be back to normal. Or at least as normal as anything ever got when the Winchesters were visiting. He figured there would be at least a little bit of awkwardness in the air, but that wasn't really unusual in and of itself. The boys often acted like they were walking around on eggshells if John was in one of his moods.

Once he parked the truck, he grabbed all the groceries in one hand, tucked the papers under one arm, and picked up the pizzas with the other hand. He kicked the door shut and then made his way to the front door, wondering how he was going to actually get the door open. He never actually figured out how he was going to, though, because just as he stepped foot on the porch, he heard Sam crying loudly and John yelling. Without a second thought, he threw the pizza down on the porch and ripped the front door open.

* * *

John had no idea what was going on with Dean and he had even less of an idea of how to get Sam to calm down. The boy had held it together for a few minutes, but John could tell he was right on the edge of losing it completely. Just as he had that thought, Sam lost it. The boy was suddenly wailing for his brother to wake up at the top of his lungs, which led to John yelling at his youngest to pull himself together.

The whole time this was happening, Dean laid perfectly still on the bed, his eyes glued to the ceiling, his chest heaving with each breath he took. Sam's crying and John's yelling had absolutely no effect on the boy.

Bobby ran up the stairs as fast as he could, terrified of what he was going to find when he entered the boys' room. Flinging the door completely open, he barreled in, surprising both Sam and John into silence.

"John! What's going on?" he roared as he looked wildly around the room. His eyes finally landed on Dean, but it was as if he couldn't at all comprehend what he was seeing.

"I don't know, Bobby," John answered desperately. "Something's wrong with Dean."

Bobby wanted to yell at John that he could see that something was wrong with Dean, but he didn't. Looking around the room again, he noticed the cracked window and what looked like blood seeping into the cracks of the glass. He walked over to the window and looked out, not surprised when he didn't see anything else out of the ordinary.

Finally turning his attention back to the three Winchesters, Bobby noticed for the first time how terrified Sam looked. Without hesitating, he stepped over to the bed and picked the boy up, pulling him tightly into his chest. He shared a look with John, but then turned his attention to Dean. He was shocked to see how pale and diaphoretic the boy was.

"What happened?" he asked John, hoping for at least somewhat of an answer.

It took John a few seconds to gather his thoughts before he could answer. "I was downstairs and I heard Sam scream. When I got up here, Dean was standing by the window, not moving or talking, at all. It was like he was completely catatonic, Bobby. And there was a bird at the window."

"A bird?"

"Yes. It was pecking at the glass and its beak was bleeding. The glass was starting to crack, but the bird just kept pecking. And I swear it was staring straight at Dean, Bobby."

Bobby listened to John's words, but he was having a hard time wrapping his head around what he was hearing. "The bird was staring at Dean?"

"I swear it was. And Dean wasn't moving. I yelled at him to get down because I was going to shoot the damn bird, but it was like he didn't even hear me. So, I pushed him out of the way and aimed at the window. The bird flew away before I could get a shot off."

"And he hasn't responded to you at all?"

"Not at all," John answered.

Bobby handed Sam over to John and then sat down on the bed. He put his hand up right in front of Dean's face and snapped his fingers several times, but Dean didn't blink or react at all. Next, he lifted Dean's left arm up in the air and dropped it. Dean's arm fell straight back down without any resistance. Bobby lifted the upper part of Dean's body up off of the bed, noting how the boy's head lolled to the side. After realizing that he wasn't getting any response at all, he pulled Dean to his chest, burying his face in the boy's short hair.

"Wake up, boy," he mumbled quietly before laying Dean back down on the bed.

"What's wrong with him, Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked in a tiny voice. "Why won't he wake up?"

"I don't know, Sammy, but we're going to figure it out, okay? Your daddy and I…. we'll figure it out." Bobby looked over at John, surprised to see the look of utter defeat on the man's face. He knew that John was tired, after everything that had happened recently, but he never expected to see him look so lost. "What do you want to do, John? Think we should take him to the hospital? Get him checked out?"

John didn't answer. His eyes never left Dean, and Bobby wasn't even sure if the man had heard him. Bobby stood up from the bed, running a hand over his grizzled face. He knew that he was going to have to be the one to decide what to do, but he was at a loss, too. Finally, though, after several minutes, he made a decision.

"I need to make a phone call. I know a guy here locally who is a retired doctor. He's been known to help out a few hunters in the past and he doesn't ask a lot of questions. I'll see if he can make a house call. If not, maybe we should get him to the hospital, John."

John nodded his head and Bobby turned and left the room, eager to make his phone call.

* * *

Dr. Hanley was old and gray, but he had a way about him that hinted at the virile young man he once was. His gait was slow, but steady, and his hands shook a little, but not enough to raise any concerns when he decided to put an IV into Dean's arm. John, Sam, and Bobby stood back as the man completely assessed Dean from head to toe. No one was talking as the man did what he needed to do. They watched as he performed a neurological exam and then as he took out his stethoscope and listened to Dean's heart and lungs. By the time he was done, almost twenty minutes had passed and not a single word had been said by anyone other than him.

After he put his stethoscope back into his bag, he slowly stood up and turned to address John and Bobby. "I'm not really sure what's causing this, but I'd like to draw some blood and run some tests. I'd also like to place an IV and start Dean on some IV fluids and antibiotics. His temperature is 101° at the moment and his heart rate is up a little."

"Whatever you need to do, Doc," John answered immediately.

Dr. Hanley turned back to Dean and quickly started the IV, drawing several tubes of blood at the same time. Dean didn't flinch at all when the needle pierced his skin, causing Bobby and John to worry even more. Dean wasn't a big fan of needles, so they expected- or at least hoped- to see some sort of reaction.

Once the doctor had the fluids and the antibiotics infusing through the IV, he put the tubes of blood into his bag and turned to the door. "I'm going to go drop these off at the hospital. My son-in-law runs the lab and he'll run these for me. I'll be back shortly to check on him. While I'm gone, I need you to take turns watching him closely. I don't really expect it, but there is a chance he might have a seizure or start throwing up. You know what to do if that happens, right?" he asked, directing his question to Bobby.

"Yeah, we know what to do."

"Okay, then…. I'll be back in a few hours." With that Dr. Hanley walked out of the bedroom, leaving John, Bobby, and Sam to all stare at Dean, anxiously.

* * *

Dr. Hanley returned two hours later to find John and Bobby still sitting by Dean's bed. Sam was curled up on the end of the bed, sound asleep. Bobby was poring over the papers that Professor Tochtli had faxed to him and John was just staring at his son with a strange look on his face. Bobby had occasionally shared something that he had read, but for the most part, both men were left to their own thoughts.

Dr. Hanley quickly shared his findings with the two men, who were both disappointed that the man didn't have any real answers for them. "The blood I drew shows an elevated white count which is indicative of either an infection of some sort of a stress response to something. His neutrophil count is also elevated, but that also is indicative of the same thing. Otherwise, his labs looked perfectly normal."

"So, what do we do?" John asked in a heavy voice.

"I'd like to continue him on the IV fluids and on the antibiotics for now. And we'll keep a close eye on his vital signs and on his neurological status. Other than that, there's not much we can do for now. If I had my way, he'd be at the hospital where we could run more tests, and if he continues in this state, I'll be insisting that he go. But for now we'll just continue to monitor him closely."

Dr. Hanley looked the two men over, noticing how exhausted they both looked. "Listen, now that I'm back, the two of you should try to get some rest. Dean's going to need you to be well-rested and right now you both look like a pair of zombies."

John immediately started to argue that he wasn't going to leave Dean, but Bobby stepped in. "We'll be right down the hall, John. And the doc will come and get us the second anything changes, right, Doc?"

"Of course."

John reluctantly agreed to try to get some sleep. As he stood up, he decided to take Sam with him. He didn't want the boy to get in the doctor's way, but he also just really needed to be near at least one of his sons. He bent down and picked Sam up, not surprised when the boy didn't stir at all. Sam was exhausted and had basically cried himself to sleep, so his face was tear-stained and red.

John was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep because he was so worried for his son, but after settling Sam into his bed and then settling himself down next to him, he was asleep within seconds. It took Bobby a little longer to fall asleep.

* * *

The first thing Dean noticed was that he didn't feel Sam's presence anywhere near him. The second thing he noticed was how quiet and dark it was. And the third thing he noticed was the unfamiliar shape sitting in a chair next to the bed. He could tell right away that it wasn't his dad or his Uncle Bobby and he immediately went into high-alert.

Realizing that there was a strange presence sitting next to his bed and that Sam was nowhere to be found, Dean's heart began racing faster than ever. His eyes struggled to make sense of anything in the dark room and he wanted desperately to call out for his dad. But, he didn't. Instead, he did what he was trained to do. Using all of the senses he could, he began a head to toe assessment of himself and then a complete assessment of the room he was in. He was eventually able to surmise that he was still in the room he shared with his brother, so that made him feel a little better. He was also able to surmise that for the most part, he was physically okay. His head was hurting and he felt a little cold and nauseous, but overall he felt pretty good.

Not wanting to give away the fact that he was awake, he continued to reach out with his senses to determine what was going on. As he did that, he struggled to remember what had happened. It didn't take long for some of it to come back to him. He had been sent to his room to wait for his dad. His dad had come up and punished him for something that he wasn't really to blame for. Then his dad had left him alone and he'd fallen asleep. Sometime later, he woke up and realized that he could hear something tapping on the window. After that, it was all a jumbled mess.

 _Had there really been_ _a bird outside the window? Had it really been pecking at the glass so hard that the glass had cracked and the bird's beak had bled? Had it really been staring at him like he thought? Or had it all just been a strange dream?_

Whatever had happened, Dean's number one priority was to find Sam and make sure he was okay. He had no idea who the man was sitting next to him, but he felt pretty confident that he was still in Bobby's house. And if he was still in Bobby's house, that meant that Bobby and his dad were somewhere close by.

As he was thinking about everything, he suddenly realized that he really, really needed to go to the bathroom. In fact, he had to go so bad that he thought he might pee his pants if he didn't go soon. Running a little experiment of his own, Dean moved his left hand slightly as he watched to see if the person sitting next to him would even notice. Of course, it didn't take long for his answer, because the second he moved his hand, the man's head lifted up and he could feel him looking at him.

"Ah, you're awake," the man said in a deep voice. "How are you feeling, Dean?"

"Who are you? And where's Sammy?" Dean's throat was immensely dry and his voice croaked strangely. He didn't care, though. All he cared about was finding his brother and getting himself to the bathroom before he had a humiliating accident.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I should have introduced myself. I'm Dr. Hanley, Dean. I'm a friend of Bobby's. And Sam is currently sleeping in the next room with your dad." Dr. Hanley didn't miss the way Dean was squirming and he quickly surmised the issue. "Do you need to use the bathroom, Dean?"

Dean nodded his head and then tried to pull himself up in the bed. His head immediately started swimming and he felt like he was going to black out.

"Whoa, there," Dr. Hanley said as he pushed Dean gently back against the bed. "You shouldn't be getting up, Dean. Not yet."

"But, I have to go….."

Dr. Hanley reached down into his medical bag and pulled out something that looked like a jug. He held it out to Dean, obviously expecting him to use it. "Here you go. You're going to have to use this for now, until you're a little stronger."

"You want me to use that to….." Dean broke off in embarrassment. "I-I can't use that!"

"Dean, you're not ready to get up just yet, so unless you want to, well….. unless you _want_ to pee the bed, you're going to have to use this urinal."

Dean suddenly felt like crying, both from frustration and from embarrassment. Unfortunately, the situation at hand was getting out of hand and Dean knew it. He had no choice but to take the urinal from the doctor's hand and get ready to use it.

"Can you, uh…. can I have some privacy?"

Dr. Hanley looked the boy over again and then stood up. "I'm going to go let your dad know that you're awake. Don't try to get out of bed, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Dr. Hanley left and Dean found himself in the embarrassing position of having to try to urinate while laying down in bed. It was an awkward situation- especially for a boy his age- but when you had to go, you had to go. After trying for a long time, he realized that there was absolutely no way it was going to work. He pulled himself over to the side of the bed, surprised by how weak he was feeling. And he was also really, really dizzy. Just as he stood up and promptly fell to the floor, the door flew open and John thundered in.

"Dean! What are you doing?"

Dean looked up at his dad, taken aback by the look of concern on the man's face. He knew he wasn't supposed to be getting out of bed, so he figured he'd be in big trouble if he got caught. The fact that it was his dad that caught him made it even more likely that he'd be in trouble. "I have to go to the bathroom," he said simply, hoping that his dad would understand and show him a little sympathy.

"Dr. Hanley told you to stay in bed."

"I know, but….."

John interrupted, this time with a louder voice. "That means stay in bed, Dean. Do as you're told." John bent down and picked Dean up off the floor. Without another word, he put Dean right back onto the bed and handed him the urinal jug.

"I can't use that, Dad," Dean all but whined.

John looked Dean over and then made a decision. Picking the boy back up, he headed to the bathroom. A few minutes later, they were back in the bedroom and Dean was back in bed. John sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. I feel like I did last year when me and Sammy got sick. Remember?"

"Yeah. That flu laid you both out for almost a week." John looked over to the window and then back to Dean. "Do you remember what happened, Dean?"

Dean looked over at the window, too, before turning back to his dad. John didn't miss the shudder that ran through the boy's body. "All I remember is that there was a big black bird on the window ledge. It started tapping on the window with its beak and it wouldn't stop. And I swear it was staring at me, Dad. Not just into the room, but staring right at me. Do birds do that?"

"I doubt this was just a regular bird, Dean."

"Then what kind of bird was it?"

"I don't know yet, son, but Bobby and I are working on it, okay? We'll figure it out."

"But what if it comes back? What if it breaks through the window next time?" Dean could feel the panic starting to rise up in him and he suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. John must have noticed, because he grabbed the small trash can by the bed and held it close, just in case.

"Take some deep breaths, kiddo," he said as he rubbed Dean's back. "Slow, deep breaths. There you go." After a few minutes, Dean's color returned to a more normal shade and he was able to relax against the headboard. John continued to rub his back for a few more minutes as he thought about how he was going to handle everything. "Okay, listen up….. For the foreseeable future, you and Sam are to be with either me or Bobby at all times. I mean it, Dean. No going anywhere on your own. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Dean thought that sounded like a horribly boring idea, but at the same time, he was happy to have a reason to stay with his dad. He didn't want to be alone for the time being and he definitely didn't want Sam to be alone. Whatever was out there was scary and dangerous, and Dean really wanted Sam to be safe.

"Okay. And I meant it when I said that you needed to do as you're told. Dr. Hanley wants you to take it easy for now, so no trips up and down the stairs. Either Bobby or I will get you up and down. And no horse-playing with your brother, either. I don't want you doing anything more strenuous than reaching up to scratch your nose. Understand?"

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I mean it, Dean."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, let's go wake up Bobby and get this day started. Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving," Dean answered straightaway. "Do you think Uncle Bobby has some pie?"

John laughed as he picked Dean up. Carrying him down the hall, he paused outside of Bobby's bedroom before finally knocking on it loudly. They both laughed at the sound of Bobby grumbling as he came to the door. The door opened and it took Bobby a few seconds to realize what he was seeing.

"You're awake," was all he said as he looked at Dean.

"He's been awake for about thirty minutes now. And he's starving."

"That's good. What do you say we go downstairs and get some breakfast, Dean?"

Dean's stomach growled loudly at that exact moment, causing Bobby and John to laugh.

"Where's Dr. Hanley?" Bobby was surprised to see that the man was nowhere in sight. "And where's Sam?"

"Dr. Hanley went downstairs to make a few phone calls. And Sam is still sleeping, but I'm about to wake him up. I want the boys to be with one of us at all times, Bobby."

"That's good thinkin', John. Why don't you let me go wake up Sam. You go on and get Dean settled on the couch. Once Sam's awake, I'll get going on some breakfast."

John nodded and turned towards the stairs. He hadn't taken more than two steps when Dean called out to Bobby.

"Uncle Bobby! Do we have any pie? I really want some pie!"

Bobby laughed at the hopeful look on Dean's face. "Yeah, we got pie, boy."

Dean smiled widely and then uncharacteristically settled himself in John's arms. He hated feeling like he was being babied, but for the moment, he wasn't going to argue with it. Truth be told, he still felt pretty awful. And truth be told, he was really, really scared.

* * *

Author's note: I hope all is well with everyone. And I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything.


	22. Chapter 22

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 22

* * *

In the days following the bird incident, both Bobby and John couldn't help but notice that Dean was not acting like himself. Usually, Dean was a hard boy to keep still, even when he was sick or injured, but the past few days had been spent with him either sitting in a chair, staring out a window wherever his dad was, or sleeping, curled up next to his brother. John insisted that both Sam and Dean be with either him or Bobby at all times and it was starting to get a little rough on all of them.

Sam was tired of staying inside all day long and he was tired of Dean barely speaking to him. And when Sam was tired of something, he made sure everyone knew about it. Bobby and John were both tired of listening to Sam trying to convince Dean to play with him and then they were tired of Sam's whining when Dean seemingly ignored his brother.

Dean was just tired.

No matter what he did- whether it was trying to sleep, trying to eat, trying to watch television, or trying to pay attention to his brother- Dean's mind constantly returned to the incident with the bird in their bedroom. He couldn't seem to shake the feeling that kept washing over him every time he thought about the bird at the window and it chilled him completely to the bone.

Bobby and John would often notice the boy shivering as if it was cold. They would watch as Dean bundled up in blankets, already wearing layer upon layer of clothing. Sometimes they could hear his teeth chattering.

Bobby was concerned with the fact that Dean barely ate or drank anything, picking at whatever food was placed in front of him and taking only a few small sips from the juice or water he was handed. John wasn't as concerned about the boy not eating or drinking until Dr. Hanley, who had come by for a check-up, brought up the idea of reinserting the IV to give Dean fluids. Once that happened, John resorted to a lot of yelling at his son and eventually to threatening to spank him if he didn't start eating and drinking.

Dean reluctantly obeyed his father, albeit at a much slower rate than any of the adults wanted. Dr. Hanley was satisfied with his current efforts, though, and thought that Dean's appetite would return in time. Bobby and John weren't convinced, but they decided to give the doctor the benefit of the doubt.

Nights were spent with Dean waking up multiple times from nightmares and night terrors. John remembered how the boy had gone through a phase of night terrors in the months following Sam's birth, but he had eventually grown out of them. They had been terrifying for both Mary and John, too, as they watched Dean screaming and crying at whatever he was seeing in his half-awake state. John would need a few shots of whiskey afterwards to calm himself down and Mary would have to lay down in Dean's bed, running her fingers through his hair as he fell back to sleep.

Now, it was a lot harder, though. Mary wasn't there for Dean in the aftermath of this current nightmare, and John wasn't able to turn to the whiskey bottle as much as he wanted to, since he needed to stay alert to keep his boys safe. That left Bobby to pick up the pieces and he wasn't sure he was up to the task.

With everything that was going on with Dean, Sam was often unintentionally pushed to the side. Not that Bobby and John didn't make sure that his physical needs were being met, but they definitely weren't attending to the fear and uncertainty that permeated his small body.

Sam wasn't used to seeing his brother in such a state and it was more than he could handle at his young age. It wasn't long before he was shutting down, too, and the adults suddenly found themselves with even more to deal with. With both boys waking up multiple times a night with nightmares, neither men were getting adequate sleep. Eventually, they had to start sleeping in shifts, with whoever's turn it was to sleep, heading out to the garage to bed down on a cot in the corner. That was the only way that either of them could actually sleep more than thirty minutes at a time.

It wasn't until Dean started having terrible headaches and also started talking to someone or something in his sleep that Bobby and John grew desperate. Finally, after almost a week of such chaos, Bobby made a phone call, reaching out for help from someone that he thought was better equipped to handle what was happening. Luckily for all involved, Pastor Jim was available and eager to do what he could to help.

* * *

When Jim Murphy arrived at Bobby's, he was completely taken aback by the scene in front of him. While Bobby was by no means a good housekeeper, the house was in such a state of chaos and disarray that he questioned whether or not he was even in the right place. There were dirty dishes everywhere and if Jim's nose was telling the truth, most of the dishes must have had leftover food on them.

The curtains were all closed up tight and there was a general sense of sickness…. or despair, maybe, permeating the house. Whatever it was, Jim itched to throw open the windows and air out the house immediately. He refrained from doing that, though, because his attention was quickly diverted to the sound of an angry John Winchester coming from the kitchen.

"That's it, Dean! I've had it with you, boy! You better start eating right now or I'm going to feed you myself."

"John…." Bobby tried to interfere for Dean's sake, but John wasn't about to be deterred from his mission of getting his son to eat.

"Stay out of this, Singer."

"I'm not hungry, Dad," Dean answered quietly.

Jim walked into the kitchen at that moment, not surprised to find himself suddenly at the end of Bobby's shotgun and John's Colt. "Hey," he said as he threw his hands up in the air. "It's just me. How in the world did you guys not hear me before now?!"

John kept his gun trained on Jim while Bobby drew out his flask and tossed holy water in Jim's face. After also testing him with silver and finding that he proved to be himself, John lowered his gun and stepped forward to shake Jim's hand.

"It's good to see you, Jim. What are you doing here?"

Jim shared a look with Bobby who gave him a small smirk. "Got a call from Bobby. Said you boys were in a bit of a pickle and could use some help." Jim made his way over to the table and greeted the boys. "Hey, Sam. Hey, Dean."

"Pastor Jim!" Sam jumped up and straight into Jim's arms. Jim nearly dropped the boy before firming up his grasp on the small body.

"You've grown, young man," he said with a laugh. "You're gonna be as big as your brother, if you don't slow down."

Sam looked over at Dean before leaning forward and whispering loudly in Jim's ear. "Uncle Bobby says we're not supposed to talk about that. It makes Dean mad."

"Oh. Okay, then." Jim turned to Dean, who hadn't yet said a word or even looked up at him. "How are you doing, Dean?"

"I'm okay," Dean nearly whispered.

Jim shared a look with both Bobby and John, obviously surprised by what he was seeing. After a few seconds, he put Sam down and suggested that Sam and Dean go into the living room to watch television.

"We can't, Pastor Jim. Daddy says that we have to stay with him or Uncle Bobby all the time."

"It's okay, Sam. You'll just be in the living room and we can see you from here."

John started to argue, but Jim stopped him. "It's okay, John."

Relieved at not being made to eat, Dean stood up and grabbed Sam's arm. "Let's go, Sammy."

Once they were out of the kitchen, and once the three men were satisfied that they could see both boys, Jim turned to John and Bobby. "Okay, what's going on here? Dean looks awful and I can tell that both of you are completely on edge."

Bobby and John took turns explaining recent events to Jim, who listened without interrupting. He was growing more and more concerned with each passing second and by the time they were done explaining, he found himself completely on edge, too.

"So, you're sure it's one of these Nagual things?"

"We're reasonably sure. The lore is pretty limited on these things. And no hunter we know has ever actually come up against one. We're flying blind here, Jim."

"Do you have anyone else working on this with you?"

"We've talked to a few other hunters and they're looking into it, too. Caleb and Bill Harvelle are working on something, but we haven't heard from them in a few days."

"What about Dean? What's going on with him? He looks awful and Sam doesn't look much better."

"Well, neither one of them are sleeping good. And Dean barely eats or drinks anything without being threatened. He's been having headaches and nightmares, and a few nights ago he started talking to someone or something in his sleep. He was saying weird things." John reached into the cupboard and took out a bottle of whiskey. Jim and Bobby watched as he put the bottle to his lips and downed several swallows. When he started to drink even more, Jim reached out and took the bottle from him.

"C'mon, John. That's not helping."

"What do you know about it, Murphy? He's wasting away before my eyes." John growled as he grabbed for the bottle. Jim just held it out of his reach. John started towards Jim, but quickly stopped, his anger deflating like a punctured balloon. Jim didn't think he'd ever seen the man look so defeated and that was saying a lot.

"John, we'll get to the bottom of this. We always do."

"Do we? Because I'm not so sure about that, Jim. I've been hunting the thing that killed Mary for almost eight years and I'm no closer than the day I started. And now this…."

"We'll figure it out."

When John reached for the bottle that Jim had placed on the table, no one stopped him.

* * *

Dean and Sam were sitting side by side on the lumpy couch, both staring at the small television. Dean really wasn't paying any attention to the cartoon they were watching, but he could occasionally hear Sam laugh at something. Instead, Dean's attention was on the pain that was about to split his head open and on the incessant buzzing that filled his head.

He hadn't told anyone about the buzzing that had started with the headaches. He hadn't told anyone about the voices he was hearing, either. He wanted to, but there was a part of him that knew he would break if he had to admit out loud what the voices were saying.

Because what they were saying was awful. What they were saying was scary. But, most of all, he didn't want to admit out loud that what they were saying was true.

There was a part of him- somewhere deep, deep down inside of him- that knew that what the voices were saying wasn't _really_ true. But that part of him was so deep that it was buried. It was so deep that he couldn't hold onto it. It was so deep that he couldn't really believe that it even existed. _So, therefore, what the voices were saying had to be true, right?_

With his head pounding forcefully with each and every beat of his heart, Dean suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. He also felt an insane desire to get out of the house. He _needed_ to be outside of the four walls and roof that were suffocating him. He _needed_ air and openness and freedom. He _needed_ to be liberated from the oppressive protection of his dad and Bobby, of Jim and even Sammy. He _needed_ to be alone.

But, he was scared to be alone. He was so, so scared to be alone.

As he sat on the couch, desperately trying to not lose control, he heard the voices calling out to him. Sometimes, there was only one voice. Sometimes, there were two or three. This time it sounded like there was a whole group of voices, each one calling his name, each one calling for him to come outside. He tried to ignore them, at first. And he did. Until they started whispering to him about his brother.

At first, they were just whispering Sam's name over and over again. Dean looked over at his brother to see if he was hearing them, but Sam's eyes never left the television. He looked over to the kitchen, wondering if his dad or Uncle Bobby or Pastor Jim were hearing anything, but they were still talking to each other, not bothered by whatever was happening outside of the kitchen.

Eventually, the voices started talking to Dean again, telling him awful things about how they were going to hurt Sam if he didn't do what they said. They talked about how they would steal Sam away and how he'd never see his little brother again. And they talked about how his dad would hate him afterwards for not watching out for Sammy.

Suddenly, Dean couldn't take it anymore. He knew, deep down inside, that if he didn't get out of the house at that exact moment, he'd die. He couldn't breathe and his lungs were desperate for air. So, without a single second of hesitation, he stood up and ran for the door.

* * *

John, Bobby, and Jim were now all seated around the table. John had taken a few more sips of whiskey and then turned the bottle over to Bobby, who took a quick swig and then put the bottle away. John was facing the door to the living room and his eyes barely left the sight of his sons sitting on the couch. He could tell that Sam was completely engrossed in whatever they were watching, but that Dean's mind was focused on something else. As he watched his boys, John listened to what Bobby and Jim were saying as they tried to hash out a tentative plan for going forward with the hunt.

They had just finished discussing sending someone to New Orleans to talk with a hoodoo specialist they'd heard of when it happened. Once second, Dean was sitting on the couch, staring at the television, the next second, he had jumped up and was running to the door.

It took John a second or two to realize what was happening, but when he did, he jumped up, grabbed his gun that had been sitting on the table in front of him, and ran after his son. Thanks to the hunter instincts that were ingrained in them, Bobby and Jim didn't hesitate to follow.

"Stay with Sam," John bellowed as he followed Dean. Jim veered off into the living room, grabbing Sam and clutching him tightly to his chest. Bobby followed John.

By the time they got to the door, Dean was already standing on the porch. John ran to his side, immediately lifting him up to his chest as he stared out into the yard. "What the hell is going on?" he asked as he looked around. "Bobby, what the hell is going on?"

Bobby, who by that time was standing next to him on the porch, looked around his yard, too. It didn't take him more than half a second to realize that they were in trouble. "Back inside, John," he said as he pulled on John's arm. "Now!"

* * *

Author's note: I'm an awful person, aren't I? First, I take forever in updating and then I leave you all with this little cliffhanger. Sheesh! It's a miracle any of you are still reading this story.

Anyway, I'm really sorry for the wait. I just threw a huge party for my birthday (I know that sounds weird, but it was my 50th and my family helped me) so I've been really, really busy. The party was amazing, though.

But, hopefully now I can get back to writing on a schedule. Thanks to you all for sticking around. I truly appreciate the reads and reviews, just so you know. And I'd love to hear your thoughts on this little doozy of a chapter. It's short, but I think (hope) it packs a punch.


	23. Chapter 23

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 23

* * *

Bobby slammed the door behind him and turned the lock. Once that was done, he moved over to the window and looked out into his front yard. He couldn't believe what he was seeing and he hated to admit it, but he hadn't been as scared as he was in that moment since the day he'd had to kill his wife.

"What the hell is going on?" John yelled loudly from the living room.

Bobby could hear Sam crying and John cursing as he paced the room. Jim was trying to calm Sam down. At the same time, he was trying to get John to put Dean down. The man was still clutching tightly to his oldest son as he paced.

Dean, on the other hand, was unusually quiet. Bobby glanced back at the kid, taking in his paleness and the way his whole body was shaking. Dean was crying, too, but he was doing it silently. And he didn't look like he was ready for his dad to put him down anytime soon. Instead, he was clutching onto the man with everything he had, the knuckles on his hand bone-white.

It wasn't until Sam started coughing and gagging from crying so hard that Bobby stepped into the living room and addressed the group. "Listen up! Everyone needs to calm down and take a deep breath. Right now!" When no one did anything, Bobby's voice grew even firmer. "John, sit down! Jim, take Sam into the kitchen and get him a drink. Dean, breathe, boy."

John suddenly looked at both of his boys and realized what was happening. Walking over to the couch, he sat down, pulling Dean over to settle on his left side. Jim bent down to pick Sam up and started to head to the kitchen. He hadn't gone very far, though, when Dean started screaming for Sam.

"Sam! Sam, stay here! Pastor Jim, don't take him!"

All eyes moved over to Dean, and Sam even stopped his coughing, crying, and gagging for a few seconds. John gave Jim a short nod and Jim moved towards the kitchen with Sam still in his arms.

"Dean, it's okay. I'm just going to take Sam into the kitchen. He'll be just right there."

"NO! No, stay here, Sammy. You have to stay here."

John turned Dean's body to be able to see him better. "Dean, Jim's gonna take care of Sam."

"They're gonna take him, Dad. They said they'd take him and that I'd never see him again!" By this time, Dean was crying loudly, gulping and trying to take in huge breaths as he frantically looked at his dad.

"What do you mean, Dean? Who said they'd take Sammy?"

Dean's eyes jumped over to the front door and then back to his dad. John noticed that his pupils were fully dilated and that his hands were still shaking.

"Dean, who said they'd take Sammy?" he tried again.

"I don't know, Dad," Dean cried in frustration. "I just…. I heard it in my head, I guess."

"You guess?"

"I h-heard it in my head."

John looked over at Bobby, not sure what to make of Dean's words. Bobby shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to make of the boy's words, either, and without a word, he moved back to the window and looked out into the yard.

"What do mean you heard it in your head?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Dad. Okay?"

"No, it's not okay, Dean. We're trying to figure out what's going on here, so I need to know."

"I just…. I hear things. Sometimes, it's just buzzing and sometimes it's voices."

"Voices? Like more than one?"

"Yeah."

"And what do they say?"

"Just stuff."

John was quickly losing his patience with the situation. "Dean, I know you don't want to talk about this, but you're going to. So knock it off and just tell me what they say."

Dean sank down against the couch a little more and stared at his knees. "At first, I could just hear one voice. And then it was a couple of voices. Today was the first time I heard so many." Dean glanced up at his dad and then over to Bobby, before continuing. "Can you check on Sammy, Dad? Please? Just make sure he's alright?"

John hesitated, but then stood up and walked over to the kitchen. A few seconds later, he was back. "He's fine, son. He told me to tell you that they're making you some hot chocolate with whipped cream."

Dean smiled a little.

"You still haven't told me what the voices were saying, Dean."

Dean really didn't want to repeat what he'd heard, but he knew his dad wouldn't give up until he knew. "The first voice just kept saying that it was all my fault and that I'd pay for what I did. It said something like the balance had to be restored before they could move on. I guess it was just that whole yin and yang thing that Uncle Bobby was talking about."

"Maybe. What about the other voices."

"They said a lot of the same thing, at first. Then they started calling me a…. a m-murderer. They said I had no right to take the life of one of theirs. And they said that they'd find a way to make me pay."

"That's not going to happen, Dean," John said as he started pacing again. "We're not going to let that happen."

Bobby stepped away from the window and turned to look at Dean. "What about just now? What happened?"

Dean studied his hands, not wanting to admit to what he'd done. He knew that both his dad and Bobby would be furious about it. Pastor Jim, too. He knew he had to answer, though, so he took a deep breath and looked up at Bobby. "They told me that if I didn't come out they were going to hurt Sammy. That they'd take him and I'd never, ever see him again. They said that I had to make a choice…. Me or Sammy."

"So you got up and walked outside?" John suddenly came unglued. "You didn't say a word to us and you just took it upon yourself to walk outside?"

"I didn't know they were out there, Dad."

"You didn't know that they weren't, either. What the hell were you thinking, Dean?" Now John's voice was thundering through the house.

"I have to watch out for Sammy, Dad. I have to. I couldn't let them hurt him."

"The only thing you _have_ to do, Dean, is tell us when something like that happens. We can't keep you or Sammy safe if you're not telling us things like this. You know that!"

"I-I d-didn't know they were out there," Dean answered weakly.

"That doesn't matter. You're not supposed to go anywhere without me or Bobby, remember?" John scowled. "And don't think we're through talking about this, either."

Dean shifted his position, angling himself even deeper into the back of the couch. He knew he'd screwed up, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about that at the moment. All he could think about now was the sight he'd seen when he opened the front door and stepped onto the porch.

The bird pecking so violently against the upstairs window had been disturbing enough, but to see the whole front yard covered with birds and snakes and other animals had been too much. He hadn't had much time to take it all in before his dad had whisked him back inside, but he'd definitely noticed the variety of creatures. He also noticed that they all seemed preternaturally focused on him.

"Are they still out there?" he asked Bobby in barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah, they're still out there," Bobby answered simply. "They can't get in, though, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Dean asked.

"I'm sure. This house is warded against things like that, Dean. They won't be able to cross the threshold into the house."

Dean didn't look convinced, but he didn't seem to notice the uncertainty in Bobby's voice, either. Bobby and John shared another look, but their attention was quickly called away to the sound of scratching at the door.

"Dad…."

"It's okay, Dean," John said as he moved over to where Bobby was standing and looked out the window. "We won't let them get in. I promise."

Dean looked up at his dad in surprise. He wasn't used to John promising anything, unless it was in regard to doling out some sort of punishment to his boys, so he really didn't know what to make of that. He trusted the man more than he trusted anyone or anything, but he knew better than to underestimate the supernatural. That lesson had been drilled into his head by his dad.

John stepped back into the living room and over to the couch. "Dean, I want you to go upstairs with Pastor Jim and Sammy, okay? He'll keep you both safe."

"NO!" Dean jumped off of the couch and threw himself at his dad. "Dad, no! I wanna stay with you."

"Dean, I can't figure this out with you here. Bobby and I need time to work on this and I know you'll be safe with Jim."

At that exact moment, Jim and Sam walked back into the living room. Sam was holding a plate of cookies and Jim was holding three cups of hot chocolate. He had obviously heard what John was saying, so he tried to get Dean to move towards the stairs.

After several minutes of Dean refusing to go upstairs and John threatening to take the boy over his knee if he didn't do what he was told, Dean finally followed the pastor and his brother up the stairs. The second they heard the bedroom door shut, John sank down onto the couch and looked up at Bobby.

"What the hell are we going to do?" he asked. "Bobby, what are we going to do?"

Bobby didn't answer.

* * *

Author's note: So, I'm going to apologize for the longer than usual wait and the shorter than usual chapter. Thanks so much for hanging in there with me.

I'd sure love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. And if you're so interested, I've posted a few one-shots recently that you all might like.

Thank you all for the happy birthday wishes. That was so sweet of you. I also wanted to say thank you to those reviewers who aren't logged in. I'd love to respond to you, but I can't. So, special thanks to Kathy, Michelle, Ullswater, Elliesamdeangirl, and None (?). Thanks to the rest of you, too, but you all get some review replies, lol.

Take care, y'all.


	24. Chapter 24

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 24

* * *

Upon entering the bedroom the boys shared, Jim got them settled on the bed and pulled out a board game. He knew that none of them were really in the head space for a game, but he desperately needed to distract both Sam and Dean from what was happening outside. And what was happening downstairs.

The sounds of John pacing and fuming easily carried up the stairs and Jim could tell that both Sam and Dean were listening apprehensively. Jim couldn't really fault John for his anger at the situation, though. He knew that anger was John Winchester's default emotional state when he was scared and the man was really, truly scared.

As were the boys. Jim watched them as they tried to get the board game set up. Sam's face was still tear-stained and his breath still hitched occasionally. His eyes rarely left his brother. Dean's eyes, on the other hand, bounced from the window, to the door, to Sam, and then back to the window again. His breath didn't hitch like Sam's did, either. No, Dean's breathing was sporadic and uneven, as if he was forgetting to breathe every now and again.

Jim knew that they were just on the cusp of completely falling apart. And he felt completely and utterly helpless.

* * *

John and Bobby were both pacing through the house, looking through all the windows to make sure that the creatures in the yard weren't doing anything. The fact that they were all still just sitting out in the yard didn't really make either of them feel any better, though. There was an occasional scratch at the door and on more than one occasion they heard something fly against one of the windows, but that was as far as the _attack?_ or whatever it was had gotten so far.

"Do you really think your protections will keep them out?" John finally asked after his thirteenth circuit through the downstairs.

"I think so," Bobby answered. "But we're still not a hundred percent sure what we're dealing with here, John. Until we know for sure, we have to be extra vigilant."

"And how are we supposed to do that? We need backup, Bobby."

"I've already called a few people. They're on their way, as we speak."

"Good. This is more than we can handle ourselves."

"Never thought I'd live to see the day the great John Winchester admitted to something like that," Bobby laughed. "I'd better mark this on my calendar. I'm sure your boys would want to remember this momentous occasion, as it's likely to never happen again."

John glared at Bobby, but didn't say a word. He paced from window to window, not stopping for longer than a few seconds at each one before moving onto the next. Bobby had finally stopped pacing and was looking at one of the papers he had picked up from Professor Tochtli, hoping to find something he'd missed.

"Let's go over it again," John said as he continued to pace. "These Naguals….. they're like shapeshifters? And they can turn into any animal they want? How come we've never come across them before now?"

Bobby flipped through several of the pages the professor had sent him, trying to make sense of all the nonsense. "Professor Tochtli spent several semesters studying the Nagual. According to his studies, there are several different theories, all of which have some connection and none of which make any sense. Some people believe the Nagual are harmless, while others believe that they have the power for good or evil. Some translations state that Nagual means transforming witch. And others say it means transforming trickster or shapeshifter. There just isn't any conclusive data, John. And with no other hunter ever coming across one, we just don't have anything to go on."

"Then, I guess we have to figure this out on our own."

Bobby watched as John stepped over to the window, knocked the salt off of the ledge, and pulled the window open. "What the hell are you doing, Winchester?" Bobby yelled as he made his way over to the window. John stepped in his way before he could close it.

John kept his eyes on the window, preparing himself to take care of anything that came through. "The way I see it, we're at an impasse. We can't go outside and we can't stay in here forever. We have to make a move, Bobby. We don't have a choice."

"Of course we have a choice, you idjit! We can stay inside, within the protections, where we'll be perfectly safe. We don't know what we're up against, John. Or how to kill any of them. Until we know more, we need to play it safe."

"If they're shifters, then silver ought to do it." John held his gun up, obviously showing that he was ready with some silver bullets. He then held up a machete. "And if silver doesn't do it, then I'm prepared to lop off their heads."

"Maybe we should try to communicate with one of them first, John."

John knew that was the strategic thing to do, but he really just wanted to kill something. Especially a something that was trying to hurt his boys. Looking over at Bobby, he made up his mind. "Okay. We try to capture one of them first. Ask our questions and then get down to business."

Bobby gave him a single nod before turning himself to face the window head on. It didn't take long before something started to make its way through the window and into the house. Bobby and John were ready for it.

* * *

Jim wasn't having any luck in getting the boys to play a game. Sam was more into it than his brother, but even he was easily distracted. Unfortunately, Jim had to resort to threatening Dean with punishment to keep the boy away from the window.

Now, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his head with both hands. Jim suddenly realized that the boy was hearing things again.

"Dean? Are you hearing the voice again?"

Dean nodded, his eyes filling with tears as he continued to clutch his head.

"What are they saying?" Jim prompted. He really wished they didn't have to have the conversation in front of Sam, but there wasn't any way around it. Sam needed to stay right where he was. "Dean?"

"It's….it's more than one voice. There are so many that I really don't know what they're saying. I think they're all mad, though," Dean finally answered.

"Can you make out any words at all?"

Dean listened for a few minutes before looking up at Jim. "It's weird. I think they're fighting about something. I keep hearing one of them talking about leaving and another one is arguing that they have to stay until it's over."

Jim stepped over to the window and looked down at the yard. He wasn't surprised to see that the animals were all still in the yard, but he was surprised to see that they all seemed to be looking right up at him. _It was like they knew exactly where Dean was hiding._

"Anything else, Dean?"

Dean was silent for almost a full minute, pausing to listen to the voices. His eyes were closed and his nose was scrunched up in concentration. Jim could see the line of tension that went completely through the boy.

"I keep hearing a name," he finally answered. "One of them keeps saying that they have to stay until she calls them off."

"Can you make out the name? It could be really important, Dean."

Dean took the time to listen again, and another full minute later, he finally was able to understand what the voices were saying. "Eliore."

"Is that it? Eliore?"

"I-I think so….. yeah…. That's what it sounded like. And I heard a voice say something about her being a witch. Are witches really real?"

Dean looked up at Jim with a look that nearly broke the man's heart. He wished- not for the first time- that John had sheltered his boys from the evil of the world, like any good father would have done. He wished that they could have had a childhood devoid of monsters, crappy motel rooms, loneliness, and now witches. And Jim wished that he could tell Dean that witches weren't real. He wished he could tell him that none of it was real.

But he couldn't. The kid needed to know what was out there now. He needed to know the dangers that seemed to follow John Winchester wherever he went. He needed to know so he could keep himself safe. And so he could help to keep Sam safe. Not having any other choice, he answered Dean as simply as he could. "They are, Dean. They're very real."

Dean looked over at Sam, who had gotten bored with the conversation and was thumbing through a comic book. "What are we gonna do, Pastor Jim?"

Jim pulled Dean into his side, ruffling his head as he spoke. "You're going to get yourself and Sam ready for bed. And then we're going to watch a movie. How does that sound?"

Dean hesitated, but then he just nodded his head and moved over to the dresser to pull out some clean pajamas for them. Once he had them in hand, he called for Sam to follow him. Jim opened the door and led them over to the bathroom. He watched as Dean started filling the bathtub with warm water and then watched as he helped Sam climb into the tub. Dean was just starting to wash Sam's hair, so Jim moved over to the door. "Dean, I'm just going to step right outside, okay? I need to talk to your dad." Dean nodded his head and watched as Jim stepped out into the hallway, closing the door, but not all the way.

* * *

John struggled with the unusually large ferret that had crawled through the window. Not only was the thing larger than normal, but it was also stronger and faster than your average ferret. John didn't even want to think about how long and nasty the thing's teeth were, either.

As he struggled to keep the creature under control, Bobby was trying to maneuver it into a large canvas bag. It was taking everything they had not to lose control of the thing and both men were working up a sweat. Once they finally had it in the bag and had the bag tied up, they both leaned against the desk, trying to catch their breath.

"Now what?" John asked as he wiped the sweat from his face. He had started pacing the room again, adrenaline still pumping through him.

"I don't know," Bobby admitted. "I'm winging this whole thing just the same as you are, Winchester."

John was mid-stride when he heard Jim calling for him. Without a second of hesitation, he turned and ran up the stairs, surprised to find Jim standing calmly in the hallway. "What the hell, Jim?! Where are my boys?" John's eyes frantically flew across the hallway.

"They're fine, John. Sammy's in the bathtub and Dean is watching over him."

Jim stepped aside so John could peek into the bathroom. John didn't announce his presence to the boys, wanting too much to know why Jim had called for him. But he watched his boys for a few long seconds, listening to Dean telling Sam a corny joke and then listening as Sam laughed like the child he was. He watched as Dean washed Sam's hair, taking every caution to keep from getting soap in his brother's eyes. His heart ached at the sight before him, but he couldn't linger on it for too long. They had a problem to solve.

Turning back to Jim, John immediately got to the point. "Why did you call me up here? What happened?"

Jim got straight to the point, too. "Dean heard the voices again. And this time he heard something that may be helpful."

"Get to the point, Murphy," John growled, obviously feeling like the man was stalling.

"There's a witch. And apparently she's controlling them."

John stared at Jim like he'd grown another head. "A witch? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Dean thinks her name is Eliore. He said that some of the voices are saying they want to leave, but others are saying that they have to stay until it's done."

"Until what's done? Until they…. Until they kill Dean?"

"I guess that's what they mean. That is what they're here for, right?"

John ran a hand over his face and through his hair. He looked towards the bathroom, taking a few seconds to listen to the sounds of Sam and Dean talking, before turning back to Jim. "We got one of them downstairs, Jim."

"What? You caught one?"

"Yeah. We opened a window and one came through. A ferret, can you believe that? A damn ferret."

"What are you going to do with it, John?"

"Don't know yet. We've got it secured for now. Maybe we'll find a way to make it transform so we can actually talk to it."

"You think that'll work?"

"It has to. We don't have any other play here, Jim."

Before Jim could answer, Dean called out. "Dad? Is that you? Are you out there?"

John looked towards the bathroom, but without a word, he turned and walked back down the stairs, leaving Jim to once again look after Sam and Dean.

* * *

Two hours later, Sam and Dean were sleeping. Jim pulled a chair up next to the bed and had been reading his bible, but after a few minutes, he had fallen asleep, too. It had been a long day for all of them and he had really wished that they all could just go to bed and get some actual good sleep for a change.

Before he dozed off, he'd watched as Sam and Dean slept. Sam seemed to be sleeping a little easier than usual, but Dean was tossing and turning almost continually. Jim wondered how either boy could actually sleep through it all.

Eventually, Dean woke up, though. When he first opened his eyes, he noticed how dark it was in the room. Pastor Jim had pulled the curtains completely shut, but Dean could still tell that is was a pretty moonless night. He couldn't make out any light from the moon at all under the curtains.

Realizing that he really needed to go to the bathroom, Dean found himself in a bit of a bind. He really didn't want to venture out alone, but he also didn't want to wake up Pastor Jim. And if Jim took him to the bathroom, they'd have to wake Sammy up, too, because there was no way Dean would be leaving his brother behind.

Making up his mind rather quickly, Dean silently made his way over to the door. He knew which floor boards to avoid, due to his frequent late night adventures to find snacks for him and his brother while Bobby was asleep. And he knew just how to open the door without making a lot of noise. Once he was in the hallway, he looked around, making sure that there wasn't anything lingering there, ready to snatch him up now that he was alone. He was scared and he hated being scared.

He practically ran to the small bathroom across the hall and turned the light on. After ensuring that the bathroom was indeed empty, he quickly took care of business. It was on his way back to the bedroom that he heard it again, but this time the voice seemed so much closer than before. He listened as it called out to him, telling him to come downstairs, telling him to do so or risk something happening to his brother.

Dean knew that he should tell his dad immediately, but he didn't know where the man was. And if he started screaming for help, Sam would wake up and he would be scared again. Dean didn't want to scare his brother. The poor kid had already been scared enough.

Making a command decision, Dean started to make his way to the stairs and then down them, once again avoiding any of the creaky floor boards along the way. Once he was closer to the bottom, he could hear the low rumble of voices mixed in with whatever voice he was still hearing in his head. He couldn't make out what they were saying until he got to the bottom of the stairs, though.

"Well, that didn't work," Bobby said, sounding completely exhausted and annoyed.

"Did you really think it was going to?" he heard his dad ask.

"No, but I was hoping that maybe….. just maybe…. it might. So, what now?"

"I'm out of ideas, Bobby. We've tried everything. Salt, holy water, iron, that weird spell you knew. Hell, we even tried an exorcism. Nothing's working, we're right back at square one, and I need a drink."

"John, wait! Look! What is it doing?"

Dean couldn't see what was going on, but after a few seconds, he figured it out. Where the voice in his head _had_ been aggressive and threatening, it was now calm and reassuring, coaxing him forward and telling him that he was doing the right thing for his brother. Dean wasn't even sure if he had control of his own feet, because before he even knew what he was doing, he was moving forward. Moving towards one of the things that wanted to kill him. He felt like his head was swimming and he felt like he was floating. He knew his dad was going to be mad at him, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Step by step, he made his way closer to the monster in the library.

* * *

Bobby and John had tried everything they could think of, but nothing they did had any effect at all on the creature in front of them. Both men were exhausted, physically and mentally, and they were at a complete loss as to what to do next.

John had just made the decision to give himself a break and calm himself with the little bit of whisky he had left in his flask when it happened. The creature that had continually been thrashing around and trying to escape the makeshift cage they'd thrown it in had suddenly stopped its movements. Suddenly, it was as still as a statue and it was looking over towards the door as if it was waiting on something.

John and Bobby both brought their guns up, ready to take out whatever entity came through the library door without a moment's hesitation. They weren't prepared for the sight of Dean walking through the door as if he was in a trance. And they really weren't prepared for what happened next.

* * *

Author's note: Oh my goodness….. I'm pretty sure you all hate me now, lol. Not only did I take forever to update, but now I've gone and left you all with a cliffhanger again. Have I ever mentioned how much I love cliffhangers? Maybe I should add that to my disclaimer in the future, lol.

I'm thinking this chapter might have moved the story on a little bit. What do you all think? I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything. Thanks so much for reading.


	25. Chapter 25

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 25

* * *

John and Bobby watched as Dean walked through the room and stopped directly in front of the ferret. Bobby took a step towards Dean, but John grabbed his arm, his eyes never leaving his son. "Wait, Bobby."

"Are you crazy?" Bobby looked at John as if he'd lost his mind. "That thing is one of them, Winchester. We don't know what it's capable of."

John continued to watch the scene unfold, oblivious to the anger seeping out of Bobby's pores. He wanted nothing more than to yank his son back to him, but he was also too desperate to figure out what was going on to let the opportunity escape them. In his mind, it was now or never. They had to do something to figure out what the hell was going on between Dean and the creatures that now flooded Bobby's property.

He was ready, though. His eyes never left his son and his gun stayed trained on the ferret that was unnervingly staring at the boy. He was confident that he could take out the ferret within the span of a single second, if he had to. Bobby wasn't so confident in John's abilities, though, especially since Dean's safety was on the line. But he held back, every nerve on edge and ready to fire.

Dean hadn't said a word since entering the room. He hadn't looked at anyone or anything other than the ferret, either. His breathing was so shallow that John and Bobby could barely tell that he _was_ actually breathing. Seeing Dean so still was unfamiliar. And it was eerie. The boy was usually so full of life, but now he was anything but that.

And it didn't look like it was going to change any time soon. Both Dean and the ferret looked as if they were in a trance. And they looked like they could stay that way for a while.

But then everything changed in the blink of an eye.

* * *

If Dean had any control at all over his body, he would never have done what he did. But the second he entered the room, he was no longer in control of himself. His feet propelled him forward and his eyes never left the sight of the large ferret waiting for him by the window. He knew that his dad and Uncle Bobby were in the room, too, and he hoped that they would be able to protect him from whatever was going on.

Eventually, he came to a stop a few feet in front of the ferret. He had no idea how long he'd been standing there and he had no idea what his dad and uncle were doing. It wasn't until he started to move even closer to the ferret that he even heard either of them speak.

"Dean! Stop!" John yelled loudly, and Dean felt a little jolt of something shoot through him. He thought that maybe it was his body trying to regain control, but it didn't really last long enough to do him any good. Within a second, he felt his body moving out of his control, inching forward towards the ferret and the window.

"Dean!" John was yelling louder and Dean could feel him moving forward. Before he could reach is son, though, he came to an abrupt stop, as if he'd ran into a brick wall. "What the hell?!"

"John! Grab him!" Bobby sprinted forward, too, wondering why John had stopped, but just seconds later, he too came to an abrupt stop. Just inches away from where Dean had been and unable to get any closer.

Before either of them could say or do anything more, and before they could even wrap their minds around what was happening, the ferret's shape started changing. Right before their eyes, it turned into a man. And right before their eyes, the man grabbed Dean and disappeared.

"Dean!" John and Bobby both screamed at the same time, their bodies falling forward as the invisible wall that had held them back, suddenly disappeared. They both scrambled to their feet and moved towards the spot where Dean had just been.

"Where is he?!" John screamed as panic took him over. "Bobby, where the hell is he?"

"I don't know, John." Bobby moved around the room, frantically checking over every inch of the room. "He's not here!"

John made his way over to the window, looking out into the yard. "They're all gone," he said. "Bobby, they're all gone. All the creatures."

Bobby joined John at the window, staring out into the empty yard. "Damn it!"

Before either of them could say or do anything else, Jim entered the room, carrying a visibly upset Sam. "What happened?" he asked immediately. "Where's Dean?"

John and Bobby both just stared at the man, neither having an answer worth sharing. Jim looked from one to the other as he ineffectively tried to calm Sam down. It took almost a full minute before John realized that he should take his youngest son from the man and try to calm him down.

"Daddy! Where's Dean? I want Dean." Sam was crying so hard that his breaths were sharp and painful. Sobs were wracking his small body, to the point that John had to tighten his grip on the boy to prevent him from falling out of his arms.

"We'll find him, Sammy. I promise, we'll find him."

Bobby and Jim could both tell that the man didn't really believe his own words.

* * *

Dean had no idea what had happened. One second he was in Bobby's house, the next he wasn't. And he had no idea where he was. All he knew was that he was by himself and he was cold and scared. As he looked around the small room he was in, he realized that there weren't any windows. There was a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, giving off a yellow light that made more shadows in the small room than he was comfortable with. He noticed a toilet in one corner of the room and a dirty, stained mattress in another corner. There was only one door in the room, but he could tell that there wasn't a door knob.

He knew he was trapped and he wanted to cry. The only good thing he could focus on was that he had full control of his mind and his body again. At the moment, there weren't any voices in his head, other than the voice of his dad, telling him what he should be doing.

 _Look around you._

 _Learn everything you can about the space you're in._

 _Look for an exit._

 _Listen to the sounds around you._

 _Keep the door to whatever room you're in right in front of you._

 _Always be prepared for something to happen._

 _Never let your guard down._

 _Keep your cool._

He knew what he was supposed to do. He just didn't know if he could do it. Dean didn't think he'd ever been so scared and that was saying a lot. He'd faced scary things before, but this was different. For the first time ever, he wasn't completely sure that his dad would be able to help him. He knew that his dad, Bobby, and Jim were still trying to figure out what was going on and he knew that they really had no idea what they were dealing with. For the first time in his life, he didn't have faith in his dad's ability to save him. And that terrified him.

* * *

It took almost an hour for John to calm Sam down. In that hour, he tried to figure out if Sam was just upset because Dean was gone or if he was upset because something more supernatural was going on with him. _Was he hearing voices too? Was he feeling some supernatural presence or energy? Did he have a vision of something?_

John didn't know for sure, but he had been thinking that there might be _something_ going on with his youngest son. Ever since Sam was old enough to talk, he'd had what John referred to as preternatural feelings. He sometimes sensed things before they happened and up until the moment Dean disappeared, John had been able to write it off as coincidence.

But now he wasn't so sure. According to Jim's report of what had happened up in the bedroom, Sam woke up at almost the exact second that Dean disappeared. And he woke up screaming. Jim thought that Sam was having a nightmare, but when he realized that Sam was crying out that something had taken his brother and that Dean was nowhere in sight, he knew there was a problem. At almost the same time, he heard John and Bobby yelling downstairs.

As he made his way downstairs, Sam continued to cry, his tears and sobs mixed with words as he tried to tell them what had happened. Somehow they were able to make out a few words here and there, and putting it all together, the hunters eventually figured out that Sam was saying something about a witch taking Dean to a dark place where no one would find him.

Once John had taken Sam into his own arms, he immediately started pacing the floor, his gun still held tightly in one hand, while he clutched Sam tightly into his chest with the other. Bobby and Jim knew that he was just seconds away from completely losing it, but they were at a loss as to what to do. They were feeling the same way, too, to be honest.

"John, we need to calm down. We need to figure out a plan."

John stopped pacing and turned abruptly to face his friends. "A plan? How can we figure out a plan when we have no idea who or what took my son or where they took him?!"

Jim stepped closer to John. "John, come on. Sit down and let's put our heads together. Let's treat this like any other hunt and start at the beginning."

"This isn't just any other hunt, Murphy. This is my son! This is Dean!"

Bobby stepped forward to stand next to Jim. "John, we want to find him as much as you do. And we will. We'll find him."

"You don't know that, Bobby!"

"Yes, I do. Because I know you. You won't stop until you find him. _We_ won't stop until we find him."

John finally sat down, still clutching Sam to his chest. Sam had been quiet for a while and he didn't try to remove himself from his dad's tight hold. Instead, he laid his head against the man's chest and closed his eyes. John absently rubbed Sam's back with the hand that was still holding the gun until Jim stepped forward and removed it from his grasp.

They had been talking things over for almost twenty minutes when Sam suddenly sat up and looked at John. "Daddy? What's a dockyard?"

All three hunters stopped talking and looked at Sam. "What do you mean, Sam? Where did you hear that word?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Daddy. I just… I just heard it."

"Did you hear anything else?"

Sam just shook his head as he looked at his dad. John immediately looked over at Bobby. "Is there a dockyard around here?"

"A few. Some are still functioning and there's an old abandoned one about fifty miles from here."

John jumped to his feet, nearly dumping Sam on the ground. Bobby and Jim both jumped to their feet, too, anxious to stop the man from doing something stupid. "John, wait! We can't just run off without a plan."

"I don't have time to wait, Singer. Dean's out there somewhere. I have to find him."

"We will, but we need to take a few minutes and figure this out. I'll make a few phone calls and get a few more hunters to check out some of the yards. Jim can stay here with Sam and let us know if he comes up with anything else for us. We'll check out the abandoned yard."

"Let's go." John immediately started walking towards the door.

"Just hold on, John. We need supplies."

"The Impala has what we need, Bobby. Let's go." Without another word or a single look back at Sam, John walked out the door.

* * *

Author's note: Dang! These holidays sure do mess with my writing plans. This one's a little shorter than normal, but some exciting stuff happened, so I hope you're all okay with that.

Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter. Take care.


	26. Chapter 26

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 26

* * *

Dean woke up to the sound of the door opening. The single light in the small room worked to cast more shadows in the small room than it did to illuminate it, but he could make out the outline of someone. Or something, maybe. Pulling himself up into a sitting position, Dean pulled his legs into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His body was shaking, both from fear and from being cold, and Dean desperately tried to calm himself down.

He watched as the shadow moved further into the room and he could just barely make out that it seemed to be holding something. When the shape started to make its way further into the room, Dean jumped to his feet. His eyes rarely moved from the shape, but he did throw a quick glance over to the door, trying to figure out if there was any chance of escaping. Unfortunately, he saw the shape of someone or something else just outside of the door.

As his eyes moved back to the form in front of him, Dean was surprised to see that it was a woman. He was also surprised to see that she was holding out a tray of food. When he didn't reach out to take it, she bent down and placed the tray onto the floor.

"I know you're probably hungry. You should try to eat, Dean."

"I wanna go home," Dean immediately answered. He tried to control his emotions, but he could hear the waver in his voice.

The woman moved a few steps backwards and leaned against the wall to Dean's left. "I think you know that's not going to happen."

"Why? What do you want?"

"I think you know what I want, Dean. I think you know why you're here."

"I d-don't."

"Don't you? You've already forgotten what happened at the cabin? The fact that you killed an innocent creature?"

Dean suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. "I had to," he said as he tried to take in some deep breaths. "I had to protect my…." He stopped himself from continuing.

"Protect who? Your brother? Your Sammy?"

Dean didn't answer, not wanting to even bring the idea of his little brother to the woman's attention.

"I know all about Sammy, Dean. How you'd do anything to protect him, right? And how your _dad_ expects you to do anything to protect him."

"You don't know anything about that."

"Yes, I do, because I know your dad. I know the kind of man John Winchester is, Dean. But, don't worry…. I'm going to make sure he doesn't hurt you anymore."

Dean had no idea what the woman was talking about. "My dad doesn't hurt me."

The woman clucked her tongue strangely as she looked down at him and Dean couldn't help but squirm under her gaze. "Your dad is a bad man, Dean. Surely you know that."

"He's not! My dad…. He's a hero. And he'd never hurt me."

"But he does. How many times does he leave you alone in some dirty motel room to take care of your brother, Dean? How often do you have to sleep in the back of a car because he's hell-bent on getting to some hunt halfway across the country? How many times have you gone to bed hungry, Dean? Or scared? How many times has your father put someone else's safety and well-being in front of his own family's?"

Dean didn't know how to answer the woman. There was a part of him that knew those things weren't normal. That dads shouldn't allow those things to happen. He knew that he was too young to be left alone with Sam and that it wasn't okay to go to bed hungry like they sometimes did. But, he also knew that those things happened because his dad was doing something really, really important. He was saving people and hunting things. Monsters. Like the woman standing before him and the creatures that had gathered outside of Bobby's house.

Dean also knew that his dad would save him. That he would find him and take him back to Sammy. He knew. He just needed to be ready for that to happen.

* * *

John Winchester felt like his heart was about to leap out of his throat. Every second he spent without knowing where his son was drove him closer and closer to the edge of a massive cliff. He felt like he was just one step away from falling, from completely losing the sanity he'd barely had a hold on to begin with.

This obviously wasn't the first time one of his boys had been in danger and he hated himself for that. Every time he'd found his boys in a situation like that, he would tell himself that it wouldn't ever happen again. He would tell himself that nothing was more important than the safety of his sons.

It never lasted, though. He would try to give his boys a normal childhood, but the minute any type of hunt came up, all of his best intentions were shoved aside. He knew it wasn't right. _He knew._

And now Dean was gone. Dean was in danger. Dean was scared. And John hated himself again. He hated how much of a failure he was as a father. Dean deserved so much better than the crappy life he'd been handed.

John was thankful that Bobby was with him. He truly felt like he might not be able to hold it together for too much longer, so having Bobby by his side gave him at least a modicum of peace and hope. He knew that the older hunter loved his boys like they were his own and he appreciated that. Bobby would find Dean or die trying. And he was one of the best hunters John had ever known.

The trip to the abandoned dockyard had been made mostly in silence. Occasionally, Bobby would throw out some tidbit of information, regurgitating some fact that they'd already gone over at least ten times. They had very little to go on, but John had faith in the fact that both he and Bobby were good at what they did. They were good at adapting and improvising. Even though they weren't completely sure of what they were facing, John would put his money on the hunting team of Winchester/Singer at any time. _Especially when the stakes were so high._

By the time they arrived at the abandoned boatyard, it had already been almost two hours since Dean had been taken. The boatyard was bigger than John had anticipated and it appeared to be completely deserted. The only thing that made John think they were in the right place was the fact that they saw a rather large lemur skulking around the yard. As far as he knew, lemurs weren't indigenous to North America.

"Do you see that?' Bobby pointed at the lemur that still hadn't noticed them.

"Yeah. Unless lemurs have relocated, I'd say we're in the right place. Let's go." John reached down to open the door, but Bobby held out a hand to stop him.

"Wait, John. Take a breath. We can't go off half-cocked. We have to do this right."

Every fiber of John's being wanted to storm through the boatyard looking for his son. _Every single fiber._ But he knew that Bobby was right. They needed to take a minute, evaluate the situation, and form at least a semblance of a plan. The boatyard was rather large and there were only two of them. They couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

"What do you think?" he finally asked.

Bobby took a few minutes to study the boatyard before answering. There were several small outbuildings on the east side of the yard and one large warehouse on the west side. The rest of the yard was filled with several abandoned boats in various stages of disrepair. Both John and Bobby realized that there were way too many places to search in a timely, yet thorough manner. Luckily, as they continued to survey the yard, they noticed a few more creatures lurking around one of the larger boats. Both figured that that was probably the best place to start, at least.

Not really knowing exactly how to kill whatever they were facing, they decided to just load up with as many options as they could… silver bullets, consecrated iron rounds, witch killing bullets, salt rounds, silver knives, iron stakes. They had a little bit of everything, but still felt woefully unprepared.

* * *

Dean wished the woman would just leave him alone, but unfortunately she stayed and continued to talk to him about his dad. He had no idea what her deal was, though. _Why did she hate his dad so much? And what did that have to do with whatever happened at the cabin?_

The nausea he'd been feeling earlier came back in full force. He figured it was probably because he needed to eat something, but he wasn't about to eat the food she'd brought in. He knew there was a good chance she'd poisoned or drugged it.

"There's nothing wrong with the food, Dean," she suddenly said, as if she had read his mind. "I promise. You need to eat."

Dean continued to ignore the food, even though his stomach was now growling loudly. He did reach down and grab the bottle of water, though, happy to see that it was still sealed. After taking several small gulps of water, he looked back at the lady. "Why am I here?"

"I think you know the answer to that question. I'm counting on the fact that John will come looking for you. He and I need to have a little talk, to say the least."

"Why do you hate my dad so much?"

"I don't think that's something I want to get into with a child, Dean. Suffice it to say that he did something to me and my family that I'll never forgive him for. So now I'm doing something to his family."

Dean's face paled at her words, wondering exactly what she meant by that.

"Don't worry, Dean. As long as he does what I say, you'll be fine. I won't hurt you unless your father forces my hand. I promise."

Dean didn't find any comfort in her words. And he hated to admit it, but there was a part of him that didn't trust his dad _not_ to force her hand. Dean couldn't stop the tears that filled his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks. He was cold, tired, hungry, and scared, and he just wanted to go back to Sammy. That's all he ever wanted.

* * *

Author's note: Whew! The holidays are finally over and things are hopefully getting back to normal. I'm really sorry for the long wait and for the shorter chapter. I really wanted to get something out to you all, even if it is a little shorter than normal.

I'm hoping to be able to get back to my usual update schedule now that everything is finally getting back to normal. Please be patient, though….

And thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'll be replying to reviews soon, but I wanted to say a quick thanks to those who guest reviewers, too. I can't reply to your reviews on , so I want you to know that I appreciate you.

Thanks, again, y'all. And here's to an amazing new year. So much lies ahead of us and I hope we all can face it head on with a smile on our faces. Take care.


	27. Chapter 27

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 27

* * *

Dean was pretty sure he'd never been as cold as he was at the moment. His thin t-shirt and sweat pants weren't enough to keep him warm and his body was nearly taken over by his shivering. Along with being cold, he was hungry, tired, scared, and he really, really needed to use the bathroom. Unfortunately, the woman was still in the small room and there was no way he was going to use the toilet in front of her.

With his bladder full and his stomach empty, Dean was pretty miserable. The woman continued to talk to him, but he tried to ignore her. He was tired of hearing her talk about how his dad was a terrible father and an even worse human being. He was tired of her saying that the man put everyone else before his own sons. And he was tired of her saying that he and Sam deserved better.

Maybe they did deserve better in some ways, but Dean never doubted that his dad loved them. He never doubted that the man would die for them, either. Of course, if he really thought deeply enough about it, he'd realize that John was essentially putting them in untold danger every time he left them alone. Dean knew that he could protect his brother from schoolyard bullies and weird motel owners, but he couldn't really protect him from monsters. No matter how much training he'd already had, he still wasn't ready for that.

And that scared Dean more than anything else.

He wasn't stupid. He knew that if….. when his dad finally rescued him, he would still find himself in the same situation as always. Alone in some crappy motel room, watching over his little brother. He knew deep down that his dad wasn't going to change, no matter how much Dean prayed for it.

As he thought about everything, trying to keep his mind off of how miserable he was, his teeth started chattering violently. So violently, in fact, that his jaws were aching. His whole body was one big, wretched, exhausted mass.

"Looks like you're a little cold," the woman said as she looked down on him. She walked over to where he was, staring down at him as if he were a bug under a microscope. "That t-shirt looks awfully thin, Dean. How long has it been since your father bought you new clothes?"

Dean knew that she couldn't really care less how cold he was. He looked away from her, even though it made him more nervous to have her so close by. He tried to focus on controlling his shivering, but he knew it wasn't working.

After a few minutes of silence, the woman motioned to whoever or whatever was standing in the doorway. Within a minute, she held a blanket in her hand. Dean watched as she seemed to contemplate whether or not to give it to him.

"What is this blanket worth to you, Dean?" she finally asked.

Dean had no idea what she meant. It wasn't like he had any money to give her or anything to trade for it. When he didn't answer her, she moved forward again, dropping down to her knees right in front of her. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not, but he thought he could feel her body warmth coming off of her in waves.

"Dean? Surely, you'd like to wrap up in this blanket, right?"

He couldn't help but look longingly at the blanket.

"Well, all you need to do is ask me for it. That's all. Just ask if you can have it."

The last thing Dean wanted was to ask the woman for _anything_ , but he also knew how stupid that was. One of the lessons his dad had taught him was that you should never be too full of pride to turn something down that might help you in the long run. Of course, he'd also taught him to be careful when accepting things from someone who might not have your best interest at heart.

As he thought about what he should do, the woman stood up and started to turn away.

"Well, I guess if you don't feel like you need this blanket, I'll just return it to where it came from."

"NO! WAIT!" Dean cried out. "Wait….."

"For what, Dean? What do you want?"

Dean swallowed heavily, his eyes never leaving the warm blanket she was holding. "The blanket….."

"What about the blanket, Dean?"

"I-I want….. um, can I have it, please?"

The woman walked back over and held the blanket out to him. "See? That wasn't too hard, was it?"

Dean grabbed the blanket without saying a word. His hands shook as he wrapped the blanket around himself. The woman stared at him for several long seconds before turning and walking back to the door.

"Dean, things don't have to be hard for you here, okay? Have you ever heard the saying 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours?' That can work for us here."

Dean really had no idea what she was saying, so he just ignored her.

"What I mean is we can help each other out here, okay? I'll make sure you're comfortable if you do something for me, too. How does that sound?"

Dean turned away from her, wrapping himself up in the blanket and curling into the smallest ball he could. He tried to think about other things to get his mind off what was happening to him, but the only thing that worked were thoughts of Sammy. He let his mind wander to thoughts of his little brother- trying to remember what Sam's giggle sounded like, what his face looked like when he was watching cartoons, what his hair smelled like right after a bath. These thoughts worked to calm him a little and he allowed his eyes to slowly close.

* * *

By the time they were ready to make their move, John and Bobby were completely on edge. John's imagination had completely taken over and the things he imagined happening to his son were almost too much for him. If it hadn't been for Bobby, he probably would have already done something stupid and reckless.

And even though Bobby was just as on edge as John, he had a little more self-control. They watched their surroundings for almost twenty minutes before they were able to discern any kind of pattern to the movements of the various animals surrounding the abandoned ship. Once that pattern was discovered, they moved in sync, but in opposite directions. After flanking the creatures on each side, they checked their watches and made their moves at the exact same time.

Since they didn't really know what they were up against, they each had two guns. Once gun was loaded with silver bullets and the other with witch-killing bullets. Both men fired first with the silver bullets and were surprised when their targets immediately keeled over. After that first attack, they quickly found themselves in the path of multiple other creatures. Luckily, both John and Bobby were expert sharpshooters and the oncoming tide of creatures were rather easily disposed of.

When it finally seemed they had taken care of any obstacles in their path, they immediately turned and made their way to the ship. They knew that there were going to be more creatures inside the ship, so as they walked, they each reloaded their guns.

The inside of the ship was cold and dark. Both John and Bobby slowed down, giving themselves time to let their eyes adjust to the deepening darkness. They listened to the sounds around them, hoping to hear some tell-tale sound that would lead them to Dean. The ship was eerily quiet.

* * *

Dean was almost asleep when the door to the small room opened again. The woman swept into the room, followed by a large dog-like creature that quickly morphed into a tall man. It took Dean several seconds to realize that he wasn't dreaming and that he had, in fact, just watched a man transform from an animal. Throwing the blanket off of himself, he scrambled over to the corner of the room.

He could tell that something was happening outside of the room and his heart suddenly soared at the possibility of a rescue. Just as he opened his mouth to scream for his dad, the tall man stepped over and picked him up, his large hand completely covering Dean's mouth.

"Not a word," the man said firmly.

Dean struggled to escape from the man's hold, but he quickly realized it was a lost cause. The man's grip was just too strong for him to overcome. Not knowing what else to do, his eyes moved over to the door and he listened for the sound of someone coming to help.

Just before the door opened, the woman stepped over to him and laid her hand on the top of his head. He noticed her eyes were suddenly glowing a bright blue and he heard her saying something in a language he didn't recognize.

"Ligant petulans mihi."

The blue light that was emanating from her eyes immediately moved to surround him and the man holding him. He felt a feeling like icy cold fingers moving all over his body and then it was gone, leaving him panting for breath. The man holding him seemed to be short of breath, too.

Dean wanted badly to ask what the blue light was and what her words had meant, but the man's large hand was still covering nearly half of his face. He was finding it harder to breathe with each passing second and he felt like he was drowning.

Just as panic was about to set in, the door to the small room opened, revealing the very pissed off faces of John Winchester and Bobby Singer. Dean hadn't ever felt so relieved in his life.

* * *

The second the door opened, John's eyes found his son. He quickly took in the fact that Dean looked to be relatively unharmed, albeit completely terrified. John's eyes next moved to the man holding his son, taking in the fact that his large arms were wrapped around Dean, squeezing him to the point that the boy could barely breathe. The man was bent forward enough to shield most of his body behind Dean and John knew it would be nearly impossible to fire off a shot without hitting his son.

Taking his attention off of Dean, John looked over to the only woman in the room. He thought she looked vaguely familiar, but didn't have the time to really think about it. Instead, he focused on her so intently that he nearly forgot who else was in the room.

"Give me my son and we'll just leave. No one has to get hurt."

He was confused to see the smile that suddenly appeared on her face. "Oh, come on, John. We all know that you don't have it in you to just let me walk away from here. I took your son, remember? I got one over on the Great John Winchester."

"I just want my son. I really don't care what happens to you. You're not important."

"You say that now, John, but you don't know everything that I know. If you did, you'd know that we have a little situation here. One that probably won't end well for some of us in this room."

John could see Bobby moving around behind him, slowly making his way closer to Dean. The man holding Dean stiffened slightly as the hunter drew closer.

The woman's eyes flicked over to Bobby. "I think you should probably stop, Bobby. Titus doesn't like people to crowd him. He becomes very unstable when he's feeling crowded."

Bobby stopped moving, but maintained his position. He was surprised that they woman knew who he was. John sent a quick look over to his son, who was just staring back at him. "It's okay, son. We'll be out of here soon." Dean didn't even blink at those words, but John noticed a slight shiver roll through him. Turning back to the woman, he decided he needed to know who he was dealing with. "Who are you?"

"Think, John. You know who I am."

"I've never seen you before, lady."

"You have, though I'll admit that I've probably changed a lot since we first met. And when I say I've changed, I mean that I've changed in ways more than just the way I look. I'm no longer weak and unsure of myself. I've grown into my powers and I'm more powerful than you could ever imagine."

"Okay. Obviously, you think that you and I have met before. You're at an advantage, though, because I still have no idea who you are. Want to clue me in on it all, so we can be on the same page here?"

The woman eyed him closely. "October, 1984. Lincoln, Nebraska. You came into my home and ruined everything for me. You didn't care, either. You were on a mission, John, and you had no problem playing God. No problem taking everything that I ever loved."

John stared at the woman as he tried to think back to October of '84. He'd been hunting for less than a year, but he was already a phenomenal hunter by that time. Of course, he made mistakes occasionally. And he remembered that hunt only because it was just a week before the anniversary of Mary's death and the hunt had ended with flames shooting out of a house.

"I remember," he finally said. "I remember you. You're Nora Doherty."

"And do you remember what you did? Do you have any idea how quickly you ruined my life? And now I have the power to do the same thing to you."

"Dean had nothing to do with that," John tried. "He was only five years old."

"And my son was only two."

"Your son?"

"Oh, I guess you didn't know about him, did you? You didn't know that he was upstairs asleep in his bed when you came into my house. When you killed my husband and burned down my house."

John couldn't wrap his mind around what the woman was saying. _There had been a child in that house? How had he not known that?_

His mind wandered to the nearly six year old memory. He'd killed a lot of monsters since then, but none of them had ended with a house burning to the ground. He remembered hunting down a lead that led him to Nora and James Doherty. One of his hunter contacts told him that the couple were witches and that James Doherty was implicated in the ritualistic death of a young man the previous month and a young woman the month before. John investigated the rumors and found some truth in them, which led him to the Doherty's house.

Nora wasn't home that day and the confrontation between him and James was ugly. It had been a tough fight, but eventually John prevailed, leaving James dead on the living room floor. Unfortunately, the rambunctious fight had knocked a burning candle into the sheer curtains that were covering the living room window. The curtains quickly ignited and within seconds the fire was spreading through the room. John spent a few minutes trying to put the fire out, but quickly realized that it was spreading too fast. Without looking back, he left the house, eager to move along before anyone noticed the fire. He had no idea there was a child in the house, because that would have changed everything.

He shook himself out of the onslaught of memories, trying to focus on the problem at hand. First and foremost, he needed to get Dean out of there. Get him to safety. While he'd been stuck in the memory, Bobby had taken a few steps closer to Dean and Titus, forcing them to move sideways. Eventually, John noticed that the man was having a hard time keeping all of himself shielded behind Dean now that they were almost directly in between the two hunters.

The woman- Nora- hadn't moved at all. She hadn't taken her eyes off of John, either. "You need to pay for what you did, John. You can't just do something like that and get away with it. It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Nora. Your husband was killing innocent people. Maybe you had something to do with that and maybe you didn't, but I couldn't let him go on doing that. I'm sorry about your son. I didn't know he was there."

"I don't want your apologies. _Sorry_ means nothing to me. I want you to pay, John. To hurt like I did. I want you to know what it's like to lose something that is so important to you."

"That's not going to happen, Nora. I won't let you hurt Dean."

"We'll see about that." Nora's eyes flashed angrily at John before skirting over to Dean. John watched as she held out her hand to Dean, a bright blue light emanating from her fingertips. "Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit."

The blue light enveloped Dean's small body and then suddenly disappeared, along with Nora and Titus. Dean immediately dropped to the floor as Bobby and John made their way to him. Bobby was closest, but John beat him to the boy, throwing himself down to the floor next to Dean.

"Dean!" he yelled as he shook Dean's shoulders. John could taste the bitter taste of bile climbing up his throat and his heart was pounding erratically in his chest. "Dean!"

It was almost a full ten seconds- the longest ten seconds of John's life- before Dean finally started to stir.

"Dad?"

"I'm right here, Dean. I'm here."

Dean's eyes opened and immediately fixed onto his father's face. He couldn't make any part of his body work at first, but eventually he was able to move his arms up enough to grab onto his dad's arm. "Daddy…."

"It's okay, son. I'm here. Bobby's here. You're safe."

"What the hell just happened?!" Bobby said as he looked Dean over and then looked around the room.

John reached over and pulled Dean into his arms, clutching him tightly to his chest. "Let's get out of here," he said as he stood up and made his way to the door. "We'll figure it out when we get home."

"Something's not right, John. That spell she said…. I think…."

"What, Bobby? What do you think?" John asked angrily. He didn't want to waste any time trying to figure things out at the moment. He just wanted to get his son out of there.

Bobby cast a nervous glance to Dean, who was resting against John's chest with his eyes closed. He could tell that the boy was breathing a little harder than normal. "I think that spell somehow ties her to Dean, John. Or maybe it ties Dean to her."

John didn't really understand how those two things could be different, but he knew that Bobby was right. There wasn't any other explanation as to why she would just disappear like that.

She must have had a plan and John suddenly knew that his son was a long way from being safe.

* * *

Author's note: Well, apologies all around, my friends. I had a bit of a block with this story, but I'm happy to say that I finally broke through. At least, I hope I did. This chapter isn't anything like what I intended, but I'm pretty happy with the direction it went. I really hope you enjoy it, too.

On a note, I am by no means fluent in Latin, so the above spells are absolutely, one hundred percent not real, lol. For the sake of the story, please just go along with it and excuse my Latin inexperience.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'm trying to respond to reviews, but please know that if I miss yours, I truly appreciate them. Same goes for those of you who leave guest reviews. I appreciate every single one.


	28. Chapter 28

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 28

* * *

By the time they got back to Bobby's, it was obvious that Dean was feeling the effects of the distance between him and Nora. His small body was trembling and a fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead. There was also an unhealthy pallor to his skin.

"Dad, I don't feel good," Dean said breathlessly.

John pulled his son closer to him, nearly squeezing the small body too tight. "It's okay, son. I've got you. I've got you."

Dean clutched John's shirt weakly, intertwining his fingers in the fabric. He didn't protest when John picked him up and carried him into the house. Dean felt like he might throw up if he had to move a single muscle. His whole body ached and his head felt like it might explode.

The second they walked through the front door, they were ambushed by an overly excited Sam. Pastor Jim looked just as excited to see that Dean was okay, but the look on his face quickly changed when he took in the sight of the poor kid.

"Dean!" Sam nearly jumped onto Dean, who was still being held in John's arms, but Bobby stepped up just in time, grabbing the boy practically in mid-air. Sam just continued to climb up into Bobby's arms, his head turning to look at his brother. "Dean! You're home!"

Dean looked at his little brother and tried to smile, but it took too much of his energy. The most he could manage was a small curl of his top lip, but that seemed to be enough for Sam. Pastor Jim, on the other hand, grew even more concerned.

"John? What's going on?"

John looked over at Bobby, who immediately set Sam down on the floor and took over. "Why don't you take the boys upstairs, John? I'll fill Jim in on what happened."

John shot the man a look of relief before turning towards the stairs. Sam was just a few steps behind him, talking to his brother the whole way up the stairs.

Once the three Winchesters were upstairs, Bobby walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whisky and a glass. He poured some in the glass and then sank down into one of the kitchen chairs. Jim sat down in one straight across from him.

"Bobby? What happened?"

Bobby looked over at his friend with tired eyes. "We're not sure, but we think Dean's been cursed."

"Cursed?! By who?!"

Bobby took several minutes to relay to Jim the story of Nora Doherty. Jim hadn't ever heard of her, either. "She's a witch?"

"That's what John said. Apparently, he didn't know that there was a child in the house when he left it to burn to the ground."

"But what does this have to do with the creatures that have been sitting outside this whole time? What's the connection there?"

"We're still not sure, but my guess is that this witch somehow had them under her control. According to John, she's a pretty powerful witch and it wouldn't take much to control the Naguals. Some people think that they're a type of witch, so it makes sense that a more powerful witch could control them."

Jim seemed to think that over for a few minutes. "So these creatures are basically just a witch's henchmen? Is that it?"

"That's what we're thinking. They're the ones that do the dirty work for her, I guess."

"What about this supposed curse? What can you tell me about that?"

Bobby took another gulp of whisky before continuing. "She held her hand out towards Dean and blue light shot out from her fingertips and over to Dean. It covered him completely and then it just disappeared, along with Nora and one of the Naguals."

"Did you hear her say something? Like a spell?"

"Yes. She said something like Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit. At least, that's what I think she said. It all happened so fast."

"Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit," Jim repeated. "Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit…. Oh my God, Bobby. Does that mean what I think it means?"

"It does," Bobby finally admitted. "I thought about it the whole way back and it can really only mean one thing, Jim. And it scares the hell out of me."

* * *

John laid Dean gently down onto the bed, but when he tried to straighten back up, Dean's hand continued to grip his shirt. He tried to pry the fingers off, but Dean just gripped even tighter. "It's okay, Dean. I'm not going anywhere," John said calmly. "I'm going to stay right here with you."

It wasn't until Sam crawled into bed next to Dean, curling up against him with one arm thrown across Dean's chest, that the boy finally relaxed his grip enough for John to straighten up. Dean instinctively curled into his brother, too, and they held onto each other.

John sat down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to be too far away from either of his boys at the moment. He lifted his hand up to card gently through Dean's dirty hair. He could tell that the boy seemed to be breathing a little harder than before and it scared the hell out of him.

His Latin wasn't as good as Bobby's or Jim's, but John knew enough to figure out what the spell was that Nora had hurled towards his son. He knew that whatever the curse was, its effects would only grow worse as time went on. He knew they were up against the clock and that thought filled him with dread. He was lost in his own thoughts for several minutes before he realized that one of his boys was calling for him. Shaking his head slightly, he looked down to see Sam's big hazel eyes looking back at him.

"Daddy? Is Dean okay?"

"He's okay, Sammy," John tried to reassure. "He's home and I'm going to take care of him now."

"He's shaking, Daddy," Sam said, nervously looking between his dad and his brother.

John looked at Dean and noticed that he seemed to be shaking more than before. He quickly pulled his coat off and laid it across Dean's body. "He'll be okay, Sam. Why don't you try to go to sleep, okay?"

"But I'm not tired, Daddy." Sam's words might have been more believable if they hadn't been interrupted by a huge yawn.

"Go to sleep, Sam," John said firmly. "It's way past your bedtime."

Sam decided not to argue with his dad, choosing instead to snuggle even closer to Dean. His eyes closed immediately and John was sure that not even three seconds passed before the boy was asleep. Once they were both asleep- one deeply and one restlessly- John remained perched on the edge of the bed. He wanted desperately to go downstairs and figure out what the hell they were going to do, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his boys.

* * *

"You think John's gonna come downstairs once he gets the boys to sleep?" Bobby looked over at the stairs, hoping to see the oldest Winchester walking down them.

"I don't think he'll be letting either of them out of his sight for the next several days," Jim answered. "Why don't we take him up some coffee? Maybe we can talk things over up there."

Bobby waited for Jim to pour a generous cup of coffee for John and then they both made their way upstairs. The door was slightly open and they both peered into the room to find John sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched forward and head hanging down. One hand was resting on Dean's leg and the other was rubbing the back of his own neck. He didn't stir at all when the door was pushed open.

"John? How's Dean?"

"He's asleep," John answered with a gravelly voice.

Jim and Bobby both stepped forward, their eyes instantly landing on Dean's small form. Neither of them missed the way the small body trembled under the blanket.

"Thought you could use some coffee," Jim said as he held out the cup.

John took the cup and offered a quiet "thanks." When he realized that the two hunters weren't leaving, he turned towards them. "What the hell are we supposed to do now?" he finally asked.

"Bobby filled me in on this witch. I guess we need to figure out this spell that she placed on Dean and how to break it. We also need to figure out where she is. Any ideas?"

"She didn't exactly leave her address with us, Jim. And I doubt that she's going to be easy to track."

"No, but maybe we can come up with something."

Before any of them could say anything else, their attention was drawn back to Dean who was suddenly thrashing in the bed. John moved over to the bed and quickly picked Dean up. "Dean! Wake up, son. Wake up. You're okay."

Dean opened his eyes and looked up at his father. "Dad?"

"I'm right here, son. And you're okay."

"Where am I?" He looked around the room, but it was almost like he didn't recognize the room he always stayed in whenever they were at Bobby's.

"We're at Bobby's."

Dean's next words weren't a surprise to any of the three men. "Where's Sammy?!"

"He's right here, Dean. On the bed. He's sleeping."

Dean's eyes immediately turned to look at Sam and John could feel his body relax the second he saw his brother. Once Dean had calmed down, John focused on checking him out. He could still feel the trembling that had taken over Dean's body and he felt a hitch in his son's breathing, as if each breath was harder than the one before. He also noticed the heat that was pouring off of Dean.

"Bobby, do you have a thermometer? Dean's burning up."

Bobby left the room and came back a minute later with an old mercury thermometer. He spent several seconds shaking the thermometer before handing it over to John.

"Here you go, Dean. Open up for me, okay?"

Dean groaned, but opened his mouth slightly to accept the thermometer. Once it was seated properly in his mouth, John looked at his watch to mark the time. The room had grown silent while they all waited to see what Dean's temperature was.

After three minutes, John removed the thermometer and handed it to Bobby to read. "Damn it!" Bobby exclaimed after a few seconds.

"What? What is it, Bobby?"

"104.°"

John's eyes widened and he couldn't keep from clutching Dean even closer to him. "We have to get that down, Bobby."

"I'll draw up a bath." Bobby turned and left the room, leaving Jim and John to stare at Dean.

"I don't feel so good, Daddy," Dean said in a small voice. Hearing Dean call him Daddy made John's heart hurt and filled him with dread. _The boy had to be half out of his mind to revert back to that._

"Jim, can you stay here with Sam? Just in case he wakes up?"

Jim moved over closer to the bed while John turned and carried Dean to the bathroom. Once they were there, he sat down on the edge of the tub, settling Dean on his lap as he tried to undress him. Dean didn't seem to want to take his clothes off, though, so he started weakly fighting against his dad's hands. "Dean, we have to get you in the tub, son," John said as he fought against Dean's hands.

"I don't wanna take a bath," Dean whined.

"Dean, quit fighting me. You're getting in the bathtub, okay?"

"Nooo," Dean whined again. "I'm cold."

It took John almost two whole minutes to get Dean's clothes off and almost another whole minute to get the thrashing boy into the bathtub. Dean cried out when his body hit the lukewarm water and John had to practically climb into the tub with him to get him to stop fighting. Eventually, the exhaustion Dean had to be feeling won out and his body relaxed into the water. John spent the next five minutes pouring the lukewarm water over the feverish boy.

Once he felt Dean had been in the water for long enough, he pulled him out and wrapped him in a towel. Dean barely seemed to notice anything that was going on around him. John quickly pulled a pair of clean underwear onto Dean and then headed back to the bedroom. Sam was still sleeping soundly and he didn't budge when John placed Dean down next to him.

"He feels cooler," he said as he stood back up. Bobby handed him the thermometer and he gently put it back into a sleeping Dean's mouth. Three minutes later, he took it out and read it. "102.9. That's better."

"We'll have to keep a close eye on it, John. It'll probably spike again."

John nodded at his friend before turning back to Dean. As he turned, a wave of dizziness suddenly washed over him and he felt himself swaying.

"John!" Jim reached out and grabbed John's arm, steadying him the best he could. "John, you need to get some rest. You're dead on your feet."

"I can't leave them, Jim," John answered quietly.

"I'm not asking you to leave them, John. Just lay down with them for a while, okay? I'll keep an eye on them while you rest."

"We don't have time to rest, Murphy," John said angrily. "We need to figure out what to do before it's…."

They all knew that he was going to say "before it's too late," but no one said anything. Jim just continued to try to get John to rest. "We'll figure it out, John. But in the meantime, you need to rest. It won't do us any good to have you passing out from exhaustion down the road. I'll be right here and I won't take my eyes off your boys. I promise."

John suddenly felt bone tired and he easily accepted Jim's offer. "Okay, but only for an hour. Got it?" Once he had Jim's word that he'd wake him up in an hour, John climbed onto the bed, next to Dean, and pulled his son into his chest. Sam followed his brother and just seconds later, John had his arms around both of his boys.

* * *

Author's note: Woo hoo! Finally got the chance to do some writing. This month has been crazy, hasn't it? I actually was able to go to the Las Vegas Supernatural convention and I had a blast. despite the "no touch" rule they implemented due to the virus. I was so scared they were going to cancel the whole thing and I'm sure they would have if it had been even a week later.

And now this mess is going on. I'm a critical care nurse, so I'm actually not able to take part in the major quarantine that's going on. If I was, I'd definitely be doing some more writing. I really hope that all of you are staying safe out there. Please take care of yourselves and your loved ones. We'll get through this.


	29. Chapter 29

Raising Winchesters

Chapter 29

* * *

Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit.

Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit.

 _Pulsatio et omnis spiritus diminuit._

Those words kept playing over and over again in the heads of the three hunters. Of course, they understood the translation of the words.

 _Heartbeat and every breath diminishes._

They understood the words. What they didn't understand, though, was exactly how those words would play out for Dean. It was obvious that the boy was getting sicker with every passing second. It was obvious that every breath he took was harder than the last, every heartbeat perhaps the tiniest bit weaker than the one before. Most of all, it was obvious that they were running out of time.

John had slept for almost a full hour before he was woken up by Dean's thrashing next to him. Sam was awake, too, his eyes darting between his brother and father. Bobby and Jim were still in the room, but had moved over to the corner of the room where they were still discussing everything that had happened.

John sat up and quickly pulled Dean into his lap, trying to wake the boy up. Dean was covered in sweat and his whole body was trembling. He was looking around the room, but John could tell that his eyes really weren't focusing on anything. In fact, Dean's eyes were glazed over so much that John wasn't even sure he was seeing anything.

"Dean? Dean, wake up, kiddo. Wake up."

Dean stiffened slightly in his arms and his head turned towards his dad's voice. John could see a beginning panic forming in Dean's eyes and he quickly motioned for Sam to move forward. Sam immediately moved forward until he was directly in front of his brother. John motioned for Sam to talk to his brother.

"Dean?" Sam's small voice broke the otherwise stillness of the room. John, Bobby, and Jim all waited to see if Dean would respond to his brother. When he didn't, John motioned for Sam to keep talking. "Dean? It's me. It's Sam."

Dean's head moved towards the sound of Sam's voice and a few seconds later, his eyes found his brother's face. John could almost see the exact moment Dean realized what he was looking at.

"Sammy?" he whispered weakly.

"Yeah, it's me, Dean. I'm right here."

"Sammy…." Dean reached his hand out towards his brother. Everyone could see his body relax slightly when Sam reached out and grabbed it.

Everyone kept their eyes on Dean. Eventually, his eyes closed again and John could feel his body completely relaxing against him. It was a short period of relaxation, though, because just minutes later Dean's body started convulsing.

John tried desperately to hang onto his son, but Dean's arms and legs were practically flailing everywhere. Bobby surged forward to help and Jim immediately scooped Sam up off of the bed.

"John! Lay him down on the bed," Bobby commanded. It took everything John had in him to let go of his son, but he knew it would be safer for both Dean and himself to let the boy be untethered.

"Bobby! What do we do?" he asked frantically.

"Make sure he doesn't throw himself off the bed, John. And watch his head."

They all watched helplessly as Dean continued to thrash around for at least a full minute. It felt more like an hour to them, especially when they started to see blood streaming from his mouth. By this time, Sam was sobbing loudly in Jim's arms and John was seconds away from joining him.

"Daddy! Help him!" Sam sobbed, but John knew that there wasn't anything he could do. _He hadn't ever felt so helpless in all of his God-forsaken life._

Eventually, Dean's body stopped convulsing, but then he was so unnaturally still that it seemed even more unsettling. Bobby left the room, returning half a minute later with a wet washcloth. He handed it over to John and watched as John ran the cool cloth over Dean's face. After a few minutes, he turned to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" John asked before he'd even reached the door.

"We need help, John," Bobby answered simply. "I'm going to make a call."

John started to ask more questions, but Bobby just walked out the door.

* * *

It was almost thirty minutes later when Bobby returned to the room. He quickly took in the sight of Dean unnaturally still on the bed, Sam clinging to Jim's body, and John staring at Dean as if no one else was in the room. It took John several seconds to even recognize the fact that Bobby was back in the room.

"How is he?" Bobby asked, but John ignored his question.

"Who did you call, Singer?"

Bobby shared a look with Jim before answering. "Mathison."

"What the hell, Bobby?! Why would you call him?"

"Dean needs help, John. More than any of us can give him."

"We don't need _his_ help."

Bobby almost laughed at the pathetic look on his face, but then he was suddenly overcome with anger at John's stubbornness. "Damn it, Winchester! Can't you put your foolish pride aside for one single second and think about your son? We don't have a lot of options here!"

John was quiet for all of five seconds. When he looked back up at Bobby, he had a look of total defeat in his eyes. "You're right, Bobby. You're right. Dean comes first. Before anything."

"You're damn right, I'm right," Bobby growled. His face softened, though, after seeing how wrecked his friend looked. "Anyway, he'll be here by morning. I filled him in as much as I could over the phone, but there's still a lot to tell him."

"Thanks, Bobby." John turned his attention back to his son. "What do we do until then?" he asked. Jim and Bobby could hear the complete exhaustion in his voice.

"We try to get some rest," Jim answered. "As much as we can, at least."

John stood up and took Sam from Jim. Without another word, he crawled onto the bed, putting Sam down on one side of him, and pulling Dean into the other side.

* * *

Fortunately for everyone, Dean slept through the rest of the night without any issues. John woke up to find sunshine peeking in through the cracks in the curtain and, except for him and Dean, an otherwise empty room. He could hear voices downstairs, but couldn't make out exactly who he was hearing, which left him in a bit of a conundrum.

He desperately needed to know that Sam was safe, but he also didn't want to leave Dean alone for even a single second. As if someone was reading his mind, he suddenly heard footsteps on the stairs. When the door opened, he wasn't surprised to see Bobby looking at him.

"You're awake," Bobby said simply.

"Just woke up. Where's Sam?" John struggled to sit up in the bed without moving Dean too much.

"He's downstairs with Jim. Kid woke up hungry." Bobby stepped in and handed John a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby looked down at Dean, taking in the fine tremors and the gleam of sweat on his small body. "How's he doing?"

"Restless, but at least he's sleeping. Is Mathison here yet?"

Bobby sat down on the edge of the bed, still staring at Dean. "Not yet. He called about an hour ago and said he's about two hundred miles out. Asked me to put a big pot of coffee on for him."

John smiled at that, but didn't say anything.

"Look, John. I know things are…. strained between the two of you, but he really is the best man for the job."

John ran a hand over his tired face. "I know."

"Okay. And don't worry. I already gave him the talk, too. Told him to keep himself under control or else."

John smirked at that. "I'll play nice if he does."

"I guess that's all we can ask for, then."

John looked down at Dean and Bobby noticed the look of worry increase. "He hasn't been awake for hours, Bobby. Do you think we ought to try to wake him?"

Bobby couldn't help but be worried, too. _What if Dean wasn't able to actually wake up? What if they thought he was just sleeping, but he was actually in a coma or something?_ "I don't know. He needs to rest, but…Maybe just stir him up a little?"

John put the coffee mug down on the bedside table and then reached down to Dean. He rubbed Dean's shoulder and when that didn't work, he started to rub the side of his face. After a few less than gentle caresses, Dean moaned. "Hey. Dean, can you open your eyes, kiddo?"

Dean moaned again and turned his face away from John's hand. John's response to that was to just pull the boy in closer to his side. Both John and Bobby were relieved when Dean turned and snuggled in closer.

"That's good enough for me," Bobby said.

John silently agreed.

* * *

Bobby made his way upstairs an hour later with a plate of breakfast for John. He wasn't surprised to see that John and Dean were in almost the same position as when he left. The only difference was that the upper half of Dean's body was now draped across John's. And John was looking decidedly more uncomfortable.

"What's up, Johnny?" he asked with a laugh. He couldn't believe it when John actually blushed.

"Kid's been pressing on my bladder for the last hour."

Bobby laughed again, but moved to the bed and gently moved Dean off of his friend. Dean didn't stir at all. "There. Why don't you go take care of things? I'll stay here with the kid."

John stiffly moved off the bed, threw a long look at his son, and then made his way to the bathroom. Bobby wasn't surprised when he returned less than five minutes later. "John, I said take care of things. You need a shower, idjit."

John started to argue, but then decided against it. He knew he needed to clean up a little. And Dean was in good hands at the moment, so he just turned and went back to the bathroom. The hot water washed away all the dirt and grime he'd accumulated. It also washed away some of the achiness he'd been feeling in his bones. _If only it could wash away some of the desolation and despair he was feeling._

Once he returned to the bedroom, he felt marginally better. And he knew he looked and smelled better, for sure. Dean was still in the same position as when he'd left, but he did notice that the boy was trembling a little more than before. "Any change?"

"Not really. He moaned a few times, but that was it." Bobby tried to hide his concern, but he couldn't. "He seems to be breathing a little shallower than before."

John immediately stepped over to look at his son. Dean's face was flushed, but there was an underlying paleness that frightened him. "What are we going to do, Bobby?" he asked desperately.

* * *

Bobby was just as scared as John was. He wouldn't ever admit it to anyone, but he loved the Winchester boys like they were his own. They had been a part of his life for so long and he couldn't imagine his life without them. Sam and Dean had changed him from a grumpy, bitter man with nothing to live for to a man who suddenly had everything to live for. Sure, he was still grumpy, but he wasn't bitter any more. His bitterness had been chased away by the sweet sound of a giggly Sam or the cocky bluntness of a carefree Dean.

Seeing one of the boys in a situation like this was almost more than he could bear. He wasn't usually one to be so pessimistic, actually. Usually, he was realistic and practical, yet still able to hang onto the barest shred of optimism. Especially where Sam and Dean were concerned.

But there was something about this situation that wouldn't allow that optimism to carry him through at all. He was pretty sure that he'd never before felt as much of a sense of despair as he did now _. Dean was going to die, if they didn't figure this out._ There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If they couldn't find a way to break the curse, Dean would fade away. Just like the curse said.

 _Every heartbeat and breath diminishes._

 _Every heartbeat and breath diminishes._

They were running out of time.

"We're going to figure this out, John. If it's the last thing we ever do, we're going to figure this out."

* * *

Author's note: Hope all is well for you. Please take care of yourselves and your families.

And thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I hope my stories can bring at least a little bit of enjoyment to you during these strange times.

Take care.


End file.
